


What We Do In The Daylight

by AConfusedWriter, George_Music_Man_Hodgson



Series: What We Do In The Daylight [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: 3 Lieutenants Sharing A Brain Cell, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Birds, Character Turned Into Vampire, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Edward Little gets gaslit by birds, Effing Birds, Fake Marriage, Familiars, Fluff, Genderqueer, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer James Fitzjames (1813-c.1848), George 'Music Man' Hodgson, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hodgson Parents, Human/Vampire Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Poe The Raven, Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous Relationships, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Queer Soirées, Sex, Smart AF Birds, Smart Ass Fucking Birds, Smut, The Godfather (Raven), Vampire Coven - Freeform, Vampire Hunter Lineage, Vampire Hunting Hijinks, Vampire Sex, Victorian Affection, Victorian Vampire Hunters, Victorian Vampires, What We Do In The Shadows - Freeform, What We Do In The Shadows homage, fake engagement, high society - Freeform, the boys are married to each other, vampire hunter!Hodgson, vampire hunter!Irving, vampire hunter!Little, vampire slayer!Jopson, vampire!Fitzjames, vampire!Gore, vampire!Hickey, vampire!Le Vesconte, vampire/hunter romance, we got it all here folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AConfusedWriter/pseuds/AConfusedWriter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/George_Music_Man_Hodgson/pseuds/George_Music_Man_Hodgson
Summary: George Hodgson, John Irving, and Edward Little are a trio of vampire hunters in 1880's London who happen to become entangled with a particular vampire coven led by James Fitzjames...
Relationships: Commander James Fitzjames & Lieutenant Edward Little, Commander James Fitzjames & Lt Edward Little & Lt James W. Fairholme, Commander James Fitzjames & Lt Henry T.D. Le Vesconte & Lt Graham Gore & Lt James W. Fairholme, Commander James Fitzjames/Lt Edward Little, Commander James Fitzjames/Lt Edward Little/Lt James Walter Fairholme, Commander James Fitzjames/Lt Henry T.D. Le Vesconte/Lt Graham Gore/Lt James Walter Fairholme, Commander James Fitzjames/Lt James Walter Fairholme, Lieutenant George Hodgson & Henry T.D. Le Vesconte, Lieutenant John Irving & Lieutenant Graham Gore, Lt Edward Little & Lt James W. Fairholme, Lt Edward Little/Lt John Irving, Lt George Hodgson & Lt John Irving & Lt Edward Little, Lt George Hodgson/Lt Edward Little, Lt George Hodgson/Lt Henry T.D. Le Vesconte, Lt George Hodgson/Lt John Irving, Lt George Hodgson/Lt John Irving/Lt Edward Little, Lt John Irving/Lt Graham Gore
Series: What We Do In The Daylight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837438
Comments: 13
Kudos: 21





	1. All for one, one for all

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this story was this [Tumblr post](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/705969827243753563/726565280997703780/image0.png).
> 
> If you wish for an immersive experience you can listen to the [soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/00N6amPih6FFv6q4URFrEV?si=JO1OB9AWRmuLyacnGUoPQA) for this story.
> 
> Fic and playlist art by [George_Music_Man_Hodgson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/George_Music_Man_Hodgson)

“Good lord, I’m not entirely certain this stain will come out,” George quietly lamented to himself, entering into the townhouse he shared with his two fellow vampire hunters. He inspected the end of his lace cravat mournfully as he held the door open.

Edward sighed, rolling his shoulders and neck carefully. “I keep telling you not to wear nice clothes to work.” He let his fingers graze George’s wrist as he went inside; George caught his eye. Edward smiled. “We can always get you a new one, you know."

George chuckled, shutting the door after John stepped inside. “Well, of course a new one can—and _will_ —be procured, but one can still lament the loss.” 

Removing his long coat, John smiled, glancing over his shoulder, “Would you like me to say a prayer over it when we lay it to rest?”

Reaching out to catch John’s hand, twining their fingers together, George grinned, “How exceedingly kind of you. Yes, I would appreciate that very much.”

Edward waited for the other two to join him in the hall, where he wrapped an arm around George’s waist and led them all into the parlour. There, Edward quite promptly disentangled himself from the others, strode across the room, and flopped face-first onto the settee. He held a hand out like a petulant child demanding attention. He didn’t bother looking at who it was that laced their fingers with his, simply pulling them closer to wrap his arms around their waist.

“It appears that a certain someone could do with a cuppa,” George chuckled, ringing the bell as he watched John give Edward’s hair a gentle stroke with his free hand before nudging him repeatedly in an attempt to get him to shift over.

Edward gave a little huff and sat up just long enough to let John sit, then promptly sagged back into his lap and latched onto him.

Sparing a gently amused sort of smile, John continued to stroke Edward’s hair as he leaned back to relax against the settee. He caught George’s glance, voicing, “Might I suggest a white tea?”

“Quite ahead of you there, dear,” George winked, removing his cravat as Daisy, the maid, entered the room. “Ah, Daisy, tea- white peony, please.”

“Right away, sir.”

“That’s the ticket, thank you.”

She made her way out of the room as silently as she had entered. When she was gone, George made for his harp. He took a seat and began to play a gentle tune, feeling that music and tea would restore them after the eventful day they’d had. The two vampires they’d ended had been quite the handful, to say the least. 

Edward had expected to hear a slow, moody tune on the piano, or something atonal on the violin—one of George’s experimental pieces, as he liked to call them—but the gentle melody of the harp was a wonderful surprise. His whole body began to relax as he let the music wash over him. He could almost forget the aches and pains that twinged where one of the creatures had thrown him into a wall; if only that were such a simple thing that could be fixed with music. But certainly a nap wouldn’t do any harm. _I’m fine_ , he’d told John just after he’d stood and brushed himself off. He’d meant it at the time, but now he wasn’t so sure. No matter, though. They could always check for bruises after his nap.

Feeling his own tension ease, George closed his eyes. He now played purely by feeling rather than by form and memory. The piece was one he’d composed with John in mind, capturing his kindness, compassion, and generosity of spirit. He’d never shared this information with John, not yet at least, but perhaps someday soon he would. 

Soon enough the tea was brought in and set out on the table, but George refused to attend to it until he’d finished the piece. _Fine music must never be interrupted under any circumstances_ , he always insisted. He continued to the end, letting his hands still over the strings, returning back to earth as it were. 

Ah, tea, yes, he reminded himself, rising in a fluid motion and proceeding to the table. While pouring out the tea he hummed softly to himself, adding the right amount of sugar to each of their cups. Coming round to the settee he handed John cup and saucer, gazing down fondly at Edward.

“Neddy darling, tea is ready.”

Edward huffed like a big, tired dog. “I’ll get it later. Sleep now.” He turned to peer over his shoulder, ignoring the twinge in his neck and putting on his best calf eyes. “Won’t you join us, Georgie?”

“I’d be delighted to, but there’s hardly room for me with the way you’re sprawled out,” George quipped with fond amusement.

Edward sighed and flopped back on to John’s lap. He grudgingly moved his legs, tucking them against his body and leaving just enough room for someone to sit. He gave George a pointed look out of the corner of his eye.

“Thank you, darling,” said George, in a soft sing-song manner. He sat and straightened out Edward’s legs so that they were draped across his lap. Lounging back he plucked up his teacup, sipping daintily as he lightly massaged Edward’s leg with his other hand.

Edward sighed yet again, but far more contentedly than before. The others were warm, comfortable, and safe. He could already feel himself drifting off into sleep.

George caught John’s glance, the both of them communicating their deep fondness for Edward—and each other—in their gaze. He smiled warmly, musing, I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the wide world.

~*~

“Honestly, John, it’s not that great a deal. It wasn’t even that bad as far as walls go. It was only wood, too—and old stuff at tha— _ow_!”

John tutted, rolling his eyes with muted exasperation. “Ned, your bruises have bruises. You’ve certainly strained your muscles, and how you can move at all is beyond me.” He edged Edward’s shirt down a bit more to continue cleaning the cuts and abrasions dotting his back. 

Edward gave a defeated groan and let his head fall between his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched George dab a cloth to his face.

“Why does he get to patch himself up?” Edward huffed.

“Because he never complains about being patched up and because he’ll actually tend to himself without prompting if left to his own devices, unlike _you_.” John dipped the cloth back into the water before returning it to the task of mopping up the streaks of dried blood stuck to Edward’s wounds.

Edward pursed his lips, trying very hard to come up with some clever reply and failing quite miserably. He took to observing George and trying to ignore the sting of rubbing alcohol on the tiny, innumerable scratches on his back. 

He paused.

“How badly is my shirt torn?”

At the comment regarding apparel, George turned to look at Edward, taking in the sight of his shirt as well. The shirt has certainly seen far better days. 

“Not so badly torn...if you prefer the pirate look.”

“Gah!” Edward sat up so quickly he nearly made John spill the alcohol. “That’s the third shirt this month!” He shook his head and scowled. “Remind me why, exactly, I’m in this line of work? Ouch!” He grimaced as John dabbed at a particularly large cut on the back of his neck.

“Would you please stop moving!” John chided, dabbing carefully at one of the larger wounds. 

Unable to help chuckling, George sidled over to sit on the little bench beside Edward. “My dear, you came to us.” He pressed a kiss to his temple, giving his cheek a light stroke. “You were quite firm in wishing to join our enterprise.”

Edward huffed, trying to ignore how warm the room was getting. He muttered something unintelligible and leaned into George’s touch, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in close. He buried his face in the crook of his neck and breathed deeply, then paused.

“George?” He asked quietly.

George hummed contentedly, “Yes, darling Neddy?”

“Did you wear perfume to work?”

“Yes, actually,” George smiled. “Brand new, purchased just the other day. Do you like it?”

Edward paused. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath; something soft with a hint of warmth. It smelled like sandalwood and fond memories.

“It’s very… _you_.” 

“Why thank you,” George just smiled, idly stroking his hair while John continued tending to him.

Edward hummed and let his head loll onto George’s shoulder. He traced the edge of George’s collar with his gaze, following it down and letting his eyes fall on a small red mark on his neck. Edward frowned.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what, darling?”

Edward frowned and pulled back, gently reaching to unbutton George’s shirt and carefully tug down his collar; below the single scab he’d seen was a patchwork of mottled purple and blue bruises speckled with long, angry, bright red scratches.

Edward’s heart sank. “That—George—oh god— _how_ …?”

“Oh, right, yes,” George smiled faintly, “one managed to grab hold of me and shook me like a rag doll. Quite the interesting experience, that, but you know me...didn’t feel a thing.” Once again he was reminded of how surreal it was that he couldn’t register pain and hadn’t since his teens. _Wish I could understand what this condition could possibly be_ , he mused to himself for what must be the millionth time. 

Edward’s mouth gaped in horror; he sprang into action before anyone could protest, unbuttoning just enough of George’s shirt to yank it away from his shoulders and get a good look at the damage.

Scratches trailed a good ways down George’s upper back, getting less numerous and more shallow the further away from his neck they were. The front of him was riddled with the same kinds of scrapes and shallow bleeding. Edward realized with a sinking dread that the bruises on George’s neck were in the clear shape of a hand.

Edward glanced up at him, his dark brown eyes blown wide with fear. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“He didn’t have to say anything, Ned,” John interjected calmly, “I saw it happen.” He moved the bowl of water aside, along with the bloodied cloth. “I would have been tending to him already if you hadn’t put up so much of a fuss and would stop moving so much.”

Edward shot him a look of wounded betrayal.

John just shook his head, a tiny smile forming at the corner of his lips, while George tutted softly. They both exchanged a glance and leaned in to press a kiss to either side of Edward’s cheeks. 

“It’s all right, darling,” George gently assured him.

“We’ll have it taken care of in no time,” John chimed in reassuringly.

Edward pursed his lips, his hand hovering above the vicious marks on George’s neck. He turned to John with a sharp look.

“Can I assume that you didn’t fail to mention any potentially grievous wounds?” Edward asked pointedly.

Carefully avoiding Edward’s eyes, John busied himself with fetching the small bottle of laudanum from the cabinet. “You would be _incorrect_ in your assumption.”

Edward ran his hands over his eyes and heaved an enormous groan.

“You two are going to be the death of me, you know. One day I will drop dead of sheer, utter, John-and-George induced stress, and you both will be the only ones to blame for it.”

Rolling his eyes with fond exasperation, George stroked his fingers through Edward’s hair. “Oh Nedward, darling, if ever we are the cause of your death, such an event would only occur in our luxurious bed.”

“ _George_!” John gasped, scandalized and blushing profusely. 

“What?” George looked at him, faux-innocence coating his expression and manner. “You can’t honestly tell me it would happen any other way.”

Edward’s mouth opened and closed several times like a blushing, glancing, fidgeting fish.

“I mean… he’s not wrong…”

 _Lord help me_ , John thought to himself, cheeks burning. Ignoring them completely, John placed the laudanum bottle in Edward’s hand.

“Two drops for the pain.”

Edward gave him a pointed look. “Mine, or yours?”

John just looked at him, quite deadpan, arching an eyebrow before he waved him away and gestured for George to take a seat in front of him.

Edward’s mouth hung open and his brow furrowed, face twisted in part hurt, part bafflement, and part amusement. He shook his head slowly, then took two drops of laudanum under his tongue and stood to pull off what remained of his shirt.

“Truly, John, you’ve wounded me,” he muttered dryly.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” John returned just as dryly, emptying out the bowl in the tub and fetching the pitcher to refill the bowl with clean water.

Edward shook his head and took a moment to inspect his shirt before tossing it into the rubbish bin.

“I sincerely doubt there’s anything you could do to repair the gaping hole you’ve torn in my soul,” he called over his shoulder as he exited the washroom. He headed to the wardrobe and began searching for a shirt that would fit.

“If that’s the case, then I suppose I won’t try. Seems it would be a wasted effort,” John called out so that his petulant lover could hear him from the other room. Meeting George’s gaze, they both laughed and shook their heads.

“John dear, don’t be so harsh,” George chuckled. “You know how sensitive he can be.”

Unable to help a chuckle, John began carefully wiping away the blood that dotted, speckled, and splattered George’s neck and shoulders.

In the other room Edward smiled and shook his head, slipping into the first shirt he grabbed and striding back into the washroom to sit by George’s feet. He sighed and leaned against his knees, taking a moment to roll up the shirt sleeves that were quite a bit too long for him.

Taking one look at Edward and smiling in the greatest amusement, George said, “Neddy darling, the shirt quite becomes you.”

Edward glanced up at him. “Think so? It’s rather comfortable.” He paused. His lips curled up into a devious grin. He stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “Think I might just keep it.”

“By all means, only do try to keep it from being torn.” George caught his hand, raising it up to press a light kiss to the palm.

Edward rolled his eyes and huffed good naturedly. “Oh, like you’d be any better at it than me.”

Gently, he pulled their hands down to press feather-light kisses to George’s fingertips.

“As you say, Neddy,” George indulged him with a warm and pleasant smile, exceedingly enjoying the light press of Edward’s lips to his fingertips.

Glancing between the both of them, John smiled to himself as he continued providing care to George. _I shudder to think what life would be like without these two_. It was a thought John tended not to entertain for more than a moment. He’d rather slept walked through his earlier life before meeting George and later Edward, and now there was no other possible life he’d rather lead. Their fates were joined and entwined, and always would be; _and that’s as it should be, for I’ll have it no other way_. 

~*~ 

“...and can you believe, the little shitzhou began to herd the sheep better than Dougal’s border collie? Uncle Algie is quite convinced that he should enter the dog in the next sheep herding competition,” George laughed gaily, as ever amused by the exploits of his completely eccentric great-uncle.

Edward smiled and shook his head as he slipped off his dinner jacket and waistcoat. Neatly draping them over the back of his chair, Edward felt John take up his hand and begin to undo the buttons of his sleeve. Edward gave him a fond smile.

“You know,” he said to George, “that reminds me of my neighbor’s old dog back when I was a boy.”

“Oh? Do tell,” George smiled, setting aside the small poetry volume he’d been glancing through. He left the bed and came over to join them, taking up Edward’s other hand to undo the other set of buttons.

Edward contentedly watched their fingers work as he continued. He smiled and shook his head at the memories of childhood.

“Ridiculous little dog, really— can’t remember the breed, though.” He hummed and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter; but it was so small you had to watch for hawks when it went outside. One day it got outside and, somehow, it got into our horse pen. I was in the stables at the time, but when I heard the horses spook I went to investigate the problem. Lo and behold, that afternoon I was witness to the scene of our neighbor’s tiny dog driving the horses around with the ferocity of a tiger.”

John was stunned into stillness, just gazing at Edward with incredulity while George let out a laugh, eyes twinkling. 

“Oh you simply must tell Uncle Algie and Dougal about that!”

Edward smiled. “I’ll be sure to write that in with the next letter.” He glanced carefully at George; the man seemed fine as ever, with his smiling blue eyes and easy charm, but Edward couldn’t help the worry gnawing at the pit of his stomach. “How’s your neck?”

Shaking his head with fond exasperation, George reached up to stroke and kiss Edward’s cheek. “Darling, I’m not certain how I could possibly answer that question. You know I’m unable to register pain. The only thing I can tell you is that I’m not dying,” his lips formed a gentle smile.

“Providing I did my job well, and I’m quite certain I did,” John spoke up quietly, squeezing Edward’s hand, “he’ll be fine.” He kissed Edward’s cheek as well, as further reassurance. 

Edward let out a sigh through his nose, glancing between the two of them with pursed lips. His gaze landed on John, gentle and loving and earnest as always. Edward twisted his hand around to intertwine their fingers.

“And it’s safe to assume you’re not dying, either?” His tone was dry and teasing as he hoped it would be, but the look in his eyes had a touch of desperation.

John spared him an affectionate smile, “In this assumption you would be correct.” He leaned in to press a light kiss to Edward’s lips.

Edward felt the tension flow from his shoulders as he leaned into John’s touch; he didn’t realize George had moved until he felt a pair of arms wrap around him and John; Edward pulled away from the kiss as George leaned down to rest his head on Edward’s. Edward smiled. He craned his neck to kiss George’s cheek, then turned to share a small, exasperated, and very fond smile with John.

“God, I love you two.” Edward murmured.

“The sentiment is quite mutual, darling,” George returned, tightening his arms around them just a bit.

“You’re quite stuck with us, Ned,” John brought up their entwined hands to rest against his chest, “Until death do us part.”

Edward grinned and quietly wrapped them both in his arms, pulling them close and tucking them against him. He closed his eyes and breathed easy.

“Hmm. 'S not gonna be anytime soon if I have a say in it,” he said against George’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” John questioned.

Edward’s grin turned lopsided. "Let’s just say when the grim reaper comes to collect, I'm not not intending to leave without a fight.”

“And I’ll be there to fight at your side, Neddy darling.” George grinned, “The grim reaper will have to think twice about making off with either of my boys.”

John laughed a little, “All for one, and one for all.”

Edward smiled and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. He could have stayed there forever with them, his John and George, but while he knew forever might not have been practical he could very well stay there the whole evening. He was just about to drag the both of them to the bed and cuddle the night away when they heard a knock at the door.

Edward sighed. He shot the floor an exasperated look and shook his head. _It’s always something_ , he thought dryly.

“Come in!” He cried.

The door opened. Erhardt stepped into the room with blank-faced indifference, arms by his side and greying head held high.

“Pardon the interruption, sirs, but there is a visitor in the parlour.”

“A visitor, at this hour?” George frowned, not at all pleased. “Who is this visitor?”

“One Mister Thomas Jopson, sir. He claims he has most urgent business with you all, and based on his current state I’m inclined to believe him.”

Edward froze. He turned to George, wide-eyed and dead silent.

“Thomas Jopson?” He hissed in disbelief.

John stiffened, tensing up completely, “We’re not actually going to receive him tonight?” 

“I’d be more than glad to put him off for tomorrow or another day, but you both know him. Best get it over with now rather than later,” George sighed, massaging his temple. It wasn’t as if he actually had a headache coming on, or could feel it, but it was something he’d simply learned to do to communicate his frustration or displeasure.

Turning to Erhardt, George directed, “Show him into the parlor and we’ll be down presently.”

Erhardt nodded and exited the room with a reply of, “Very well, sir.” The door shut behind him like the closing of a tomb.

Edward’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists. “He could have waited. He could have just sent us a note and asked to meet somewhere. There is no reason he should be in our home.” His voice was low and hard, eyes glinting black in the candlelight like obsidian. He turned his gaze to George and fixed him with an intense stare. “If he tries anything— anything at all— I’m shooting him.”

Rolling his eyes, George quipped, “Any shooting you do will be done outside. I’ll not have the man bleed out on my parquet floors and fine Aubusson rugs.”

John let out a shocked and scandalized breath. “Edward! Lord help me, the both of you—” He shook his head and gathered up his robe, sliding it on and tying the sash. 

Edward buttoned his sleeves and thrust on his housecoat, then strode to the drawers to the side of the room. He yanked one open, rummaged around for a bit, then pulled out a pair of very small pistols that he slid into his pockets. He turned to George.

“Drag him outside, then shoot him.”

“Of course. That was my thought in the first place,” George pressed a kiss to his cheek, looping his arm through Edward’s, leading them forward to join John at the door.

They made their way down to the parlour and found a tall, slim, black-clad figure sitting in Edward’s armchair. The figure’s pale green eyes flickered away from the fireplace as they entered and he regarded them coldly.

“Gentlemen,” he said.

“Jopson,” George greeted him with placid graciousness, catching Erhardt’s eye and nodding so slightly to their valet, directing him to leave them to their business. 

He then moved to pluck up his violin—which he’d repurposed to be used as a crossbow— from where he’d left it on the settee earlier in the day. Sitting down, he plucked a little ditty. A moment later he was joined by John who sat at attention beside him and Edward who remained standing beside the arm of the settee.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” George asked nonchalantly.

Jopson sat up in the chair, straight-backed and dignified. His left hand rested palm-down on his thigh and the right was hidden somewhere under a long, dark coat. He was quiet for a moment.

“I’ve taken up a case recently,” he said eventually, “and it’s got a bit out of hand.”

Edward scoffed.

“Don’t tell me you’ve finally met your match,” he spat.

Jopson shot him a pointed look.

“Not yet,” he said, “not in this case, at least. I was ambushed and outnumbered.”

Edward raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off.

“And you are here to either solicit our help or pass the case onto us?” George calmly queried, barely arching an eyebrow as he continued plucking out a little tune.

Jopson flicked his eyes to George and smiled coldly.

“I think we both recall how things went last time we tried working together— frankly, I’d rather not end up at the wrong end of your blade this time.”

Edward gave a small huff and smirked. The others ignored him.

“I’m here to pass the case on to you,” said Jopson.

“That’s certainly for the best,” George smiled.

John narrowed his eyes slightly, “And this conversation couldn’t have waited for tomorrow? During daylight hours?”

Jopson turned to John and regarded him coolly. “You’re vampire hunters, aren’t you? I’d imagine that entails being used to odd hours. Or am I wrong?”

There was silence. Jopson settled back in his seat, satisfied.

“It’s a coven in Westminster. Twenty-two Bembridge Court.” He continued. “At least three vampires and one familiar. Maybe more.” Jopson glanced between them.

“Is that all the information you have for us? I’d rather much like to avoid an ambush, thank you,” George stilled his fingers over the strings, meeting Jopson’s eyes with a level gaze.

Edward watched the hand on Jopson’s thigh twitch. Edward’s hand crept closer to his pocket; Jopson glanced at him.

“I am going to remove my coat,” he said, “and I’d appreciate it if you refrained from shooting me while I did so.”

Edward narrowed his eyes. “No guarantees.”

Jopson scoffed.

“So much for professionalism,” he muttered. Slowly, he reached up and pulled off his coat with one hand. He’d forgone a frock coat so they could see his torn and blood spattered clothes. His right arm was tied up in a sling. The sleeve of his right shoulder was soaked through with day-old blood, and near the center of the stain was a small tear in the fabric.

Edward raised an eyebrow.

“Not all yours, I presume.” He said dryly.

Jopson’s lips twisted into something cruel and vengeful.

“There used to be six of them in the house,” he stated dryly.

Edward narrowed his eyes. “Vampires, or humans?”

Jopson ignored the question and shrugged back on his coat. “Got shot yesterday while I was trying to set a trap.” He said dryly, then he glanced to George. “The element of surprise may be lost, but you still have the advantage of numbers.”

“Answer the question, Jopson. It matters very much,” John said with deadly quiet, eyeing him intensely, not yet feeling sympathy for him and his injuries. Perhaps it wasn’t Christian of him, and was out of character for him, but given their history with this particular vampire hunter, it was understandable at least.

Jopson eyed him dryly. “To you, perhaps.” He turned back to George. “Now are you going to allow a coven to run rampant in London, or are you going to do your job?”

George feigned a long moment of thought, as if truly debating whether or not to turn down the case. At length he spared Jopson a charming smile, one that did not quite reach his eyes however, and said, “Leave it with us.”

Jopson nodded. “Very well. I’ll take my leave then, shall I?” He glanced at Edward, whose hand had been straying rather close to his pocket.

“Yes, do,” George smiled when he caught sight of Erhardt filling the doorway. “Mister Jopson will be leaving now.”

Right on cue, Erhardt swooped into the room and stood sentry at Jopson’s side as the man rose to his feet. Jopson took one last look around the room. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Gentlemen,” he said curtly.

“Jopson,” George returned charmingly, if not a touch coolly. 

Jopson followed Erhardt from the room. They sat in silence for several moments until they heard the front door open, then soundly shut. Edward glowered at the armchair Jopson had been sitting at only a moment before.

“Good riddance,” he growled.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said John from where he sat, posture still ramrod straight.

Setting aside the violin and rising, George took John’s hand, tugging him up with him. 

“Now now, children,” he lightly teased, moving forward to wind his free arm around Edward’s shoulders. 

Edward sighed and let himself sag into George’s warm, solid frame. He wrapped an arm around his waist and buried his face in George’s shirt; Edward’s free hand found John’s and held tight.

“I really do hate that man,” he muttered.

“We all do, Neddy darling,” George quipped even as he smiled.

John just squeezed Edward’s hand, communicating his absolute agreement.

Edward wanted to agree, but his limbs were sapped with exhaustion and his eyes were drooping.

“Can we go to bed?” He said softly.

“No, I rather thought we’d go and have a game of backgammon just now,” said George, quite seriously even as he led the way to the stairs fully intent on calling it a night.

Edward huffed and let himself be taken to bed. He wouldn’t recall later how he got undressed, or when he and the others got into bed, but as he lay there between his lovers he couldn’t help but melt into the bed and let himself relax completely. John was safe; George was safe; he was safe. Even if only for now, they were safe.

He didn’t want to think of what might be to come.


	2. Edward Little's No Good, Very Bad Day

Sunlight filtered in through the window, warming George’s arm and neck from his position on the bed which was within view of the window. He shifted slightly, curling up against Edward’s side and laying his arm across his broad chest. 

Edward gave a small, contented hum. George was warm, and the bed was soft, and Edward was utterly relaxed. He wrapped an arm around George’s shoulders and pulled him close to place a kiss on his forehead. George’s fingers fiddled absentmindedly with the buttons of his shirt. Edward breathed deeply and ran a gentle hand up and down George’s arm.

“Morning,” he murmured.

“Morning, darling,” came the reply, George’s voice thick from sleep. He pressed a sleepy kiss to Edward’s jawline, nuzzling him lightly with the tip of his nose. 

Edward smiled and tucked George under his chin; he wasn’t tall enough to do it when they were sitting or standing, so he seized the opportunity while he could.

“Sleep well?” He asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” George nearly purred, completely relaxed, “ _very_ well. Did you?”

Edward hummed. “Well enough. Missed you, though.”

“Missed me?” George peeked an eye open, arching an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, had I gone anywhere?”

Edward scrunched his nose and furrowed his brow. “I couldn’t see or talk to you for eight whole hours— isn’t that enough reason to miss someone?”

“Oh, I suppose,” George mused with a fond—albeit sleepy—smile. He leaned in to kiss the furrowed brow, scrunched nose, and his lips soft and languidly. 

Edward frowned and glanced away, trying very hard to ignore how unusually hot his ears were getting. He thought for some other topic to bring up, anything to distract George—sleepy, grinning, twinkling-eyed George, who looked two seconds away from another teasing comment—from his obvious bashfulness. George shifted to better face him; the motion tugged his collar down, and Edward caught a glimpse of the purple bruises blooming beneath George’s skin. Edward’s heart jumped. He frowned and reached out to gently pull aside George’s collar.

“How’s your neck?” Edward asked softly.

Sighing, George rolled his eyes, resting his forehead against Edward’s shoulder. “Neddy darling,” he sighed once more, kissing his shoulder before raising his head to look at him with a fond exasperation. He caught his lover’s hand and placed it on his throat, applying pressure so that Edward was squeezing it. 

“No, still can’t feel a thing, darling,” he smiled, his voice came out a little strained from the pressure. “So I’m not quite certain how to answer that question.”

Edward gaped and yanked his hand away, staring at George with wide, incredulous eyes. 

“ _Why_ would you do that?” He hissed. He pretended it wasn’t taking his every ounce of self discipline to not put his hand back on George’s throat and press his fingers into the soft flesh, to pull his hand away and marvel at the indentations that would be left there. He really tried not to think about that too much. It really didn’t work.

Laughing a little, George leaned in to kiss the incredulity off Edward’s face. “Oh, just to get that exact reaction. Why else?” He couldn’t resist stealing another kiss, soft and sweet before bringing his lips to the curve of Edward’s ear that was taking on a bit of color.

Edward pursed his lips. He desperately wished he had something clever to say in return, but he knew if he attempted to articulate anything he would only blush and stutter— and lord only knew what George would do with that— so he decided to stay silent. However, he also decided that it was necessary to make George stop talking for fear he would spontaneously combust, so Edward rolled on top and pinned him to the bed. He didn’t bother savoring George’s reaction before he leaned in and kissed him soundly.

 _That’s more like it_ , George thought to himself as he gladly returned the kiss, savoring the sense and taste of Edward, morning breath and all. He wound his arms around him, trailing his nails lightly along Edward’s spine, touching along each vertebrae. 

Edward groaned softly as a shudder passed through him. He ran his hands down George’s sides, savoring the feel of muscle rolling and tensing beneath his skin. Edward’s hands paused to squeeze at George’s hips before moving back up to cradle the man against him.

“Mmm,” George murmured against Edward’s lips, slowly bringing his leg up to drape over the small of his back, “ _yes_.”

Edward sighed into his mouth and reached down to trace the contours of George’s thigh, letting his hand wander between his legs and touch as it pleased. He moved down to nip at George’s throat.

John stood in the doorway, watching the scene unfold— watching George’s body arch beneath Edward. _Oh, honestly, it’s not as if we don’t have work to be getting on with._ He rolled his eyes and fetched the pitcher of water and poured a little in the basin which he took and carried over to the bed. He scooped his hand into the water and flicked some at his two lovers. 

Edward nearly leapt out of bed, shouting and whipping around to find John standing unimpressed by the side of the bed.

“What the hell?” He cried.

“Oh, John,” George huffed, very much displeased for having such a lovely moment interrupted. “Honestly! Couldn’t you have waited?”

John merely flicked some more water, at George this time. “I could have, but then you’d both be lazing about for hours afterward. We do have work to be getting on with. You both do remember that we’re hunters, yes?”

Edward growled and let his head fall forward to land on George’s shoulder. He muttered some choice curses and turned to glower at John.

“You _will_ pay for this,” Edward muttered.

“I’m certain I will, but for now you both need to get yourselves out of bed and ready for breakfast,” John turned, setting away the basin before turning back to face them, crossing his arms over his chest.

Edward let loose another string of profanity and turned to George.

“We’re finishing this later.”

“I’ll most assuredly hold you to it, darling.” He stole a quick kiss and shifted Edward so that he no longer pinned him down. “Up you get.”

Heaving a great sigh, he pulled himself out of bed and turned to help George up, then made a great show of muttering unhappily as he dressed and made his way to the dining room with the others. His sour mood, however, was mostly forgotten when he noticed Erhardt had laid out his favorite jam that morning, and he helped himself to it with great gusto.

John took his seat beside George and across from Edward, watching the man eat with such relish. He shook his head slightly and began eating, glancing over the newspaper Erhardt had laid out for him. 

“Neddy darling, one would think you have been starved the way you’re going at it,” George chuckled, scanning the headlines of the paper as John had angled it so they could both read it.

“As opposed to what,” he said, “you ravishing your breakfast?” He nodded to George’s practically untouched plate and raised an eyebrow, taking a rather smarmy bite of toast.

“Well, I’d much rather ravish _you_ , but someone,” here he leveled a look at John who ignored him, continuing to eat and read the paper, “had other plans.”

Edward smirked and shot John a self-satisfied grin.

“Pardon me for wanting to be productive,” John quipped, taking a sip of tea. 

George rolled his eyes, “I’ll have you know we were on our way to being _quite_ productive, thank you.”

Edward’s toast was halfway to his mouth when he paused to raise his eyebrows and gawk at George.

“Lord, spare me,” John sighed, proceeding to ignore George in favor of polishing off his eggs.

Edward blinked and shook his head as if trying to dislodge a thought. He quietly finished his toast and tried to make out the headlines of John’s paper.

Sipping his tea, George started humming quietly, entirely amused with both John and Edward. _They knew what they were getting into with me_ , he smiled.

They all perked up at the sound of footsteps entering the room and turned to see Erhardt standing in the doorway, grey and grizzled and exacerbated looking as ever.

“Pardon the interruption, sirs, but Mister Hartnell will be visiting this afternoon.”

“Excellent, thank you Erhardt. When he arrives please have Brancaster send tea to the parlor,” George smiled, pouring a bit more tea for himself.

With a nod and a stoic, “Very good, sir,” Erhardt turned and exited the room.

Edward turned to the other two, suddenly looking rather grim.

“Does Hartnell have any contacts near Bembridge?”

“I seem to recall that he does, or he can at least set some people to watch the place,” John answered, expression thoughtful.

Edward said nothing, merely sitting back in his chair and resting one hand on his thigh and the other on the table. He drummed a slow, steady, quiet beat with his fingers, staring thoughtfully at nothing in particular.

“I want to know as much as we possibly can about them before we even consider sending anyone in to scope out the premises,” said Edward.

“Naturally,” George smiled, finishing up his breakfast and lounging back as well with his tea. “After we take care of our present case we can do preliminary surveillance.”

Edward grunted quietly and continued staring. He intended to continue this brooding for as long as he could, but he was startled by the sound of a squawk and the feeling of something large flying overhead with a _whoosh_. Edward yelped and ducked under the table, half expecting it to be some great vulture or a hawk, but when he peeked his head out from his cover he saw nothing more than Wordsworth the blue macaw perched upon George’s shoulder. The beady-eyed cretin gave him a smug look and cawed.

Edward glowered from beneath the table, clamoring back onto his chair and muttering insults and curses most foul.

John and George stared at Edward and then exchanged a long glance, bemusement and amusement respectively.

“Ned, are you all right?” John asked slowly, almost as if speaking to a child. “That was _quite_ the reaction…”

“Good lord, darling, you acted as though it were a gargoyle come after you,” George laughed, blue eyes sparkling as he held up a piece of toast for Wordsworth.

The little beastie bobbed in place on George’s shoulder and squawked, “ _Oh! Raise us up, return to us again!_ ”

Edward narrowed his eyes at it and muttered a few more swears before growling at the bird, “ _And fears and fancies thick upon me came._ ” He turned to George. “The damn thing might as well be a gargoyle, nasty little brute. And I’m fine, John.”

“Edward! I’ll not have you cursing at my darling birds! They’re only birds, _well trained_ birds, but birds nonetheless.”

The bobbing bird gleefully peered at Edward with one tiny black eye.

“ _We Poets in our youth begin in gladness, but thereof come in the end despondency and madness!_ ”

Edward pursed his lips and cursed the bird, the bird’s ancestors, the bird’s progeny, and birds as a general concept.

“Ned! That’s enough, honestly!” John nudged his foot under the table, shooting him a look.

“Do apologize to Wordsworth this instant,” George narrowed his eyes at his rather childish lover.

Edward bit his tongue. He tapped his foot: drummed his fingers: gnashed his teeth, rolled his eyes, shook his head, let out a cry of anguish and frustration and finally—finally—finally!—turned to the bird and, with teeth grinding like millstones, muttered; “Sorry.”

Satisfied, George bestowed upon him a gracious smile, “There now, was that so hard, darling?”

Edward turned to him, flat faced and utterly unamused.

“Yes.”

He didn’t need to see John to know he was rolling his eyes.

“Right then, I’ll step out with Wordsworth and attend to the other birds.” George finished his tea, setting cup and saucer back down on the table and rising in a fluid move so as not to disturb his winged friend. “Reconvene in the parlor?”

Edward didn’t respond, too busy brooding over Wordsworth’s smug dance of victory.

Rolling his eyes once again at the look Edward was sending the poor bird, he spared a glance at George, inclining his head in a nod as he got to his feet. “Yes, in the parlor.”

“Splendid, I’ll be off then,” he smiled winningly and left the room with Wordsworth.

The moment he was out of earshot John turned to Edward and swatted his shoulder. “What is with you and those birds? Why so cross?”

Edward’s head snapped around to blink at John; Edward shot him a look of hurt as he rubbed his arm.

“Those birds are all flying, feathery menaces!” He cried. “They’ve been harassing me since the very first day they got here!”

“ _Menaces_? Really? Oh Ned…” John shook his head, quite at a loss. “They’ve been nothing but pleasant since George brought them here. You’re being a child.”

Edward raised an eyebrow sharply. “From the mouths of babes, dearest.”

Sighing in quiet exasperation, John just turned about and walked out of the room, quite done with him.

Edward watched John stride through the doorway, listened to his footsteps echoing down the hall. Waited a moment. Stood and made his own way to the parlour where John sat on a couch with a pencil and sketchbook. Edward sat down beside him; he watched for a moment. John didn’t acknowledge his presence. Edward rested his hand on John’s shoulder, tracing up and down the seam of his frock coat with a gentle finger.

“Can you not see I’m currently occupied at the moment?” John didn’t even look up from his minute sketching. _No, no, he isn’t going to distract me this time, absolutely not_ , he firmly told himself.

“Only trying to keep you company,” purred Edward. He slid close enough that Edward could feel the heat of John’s body, but not close enough to press against him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead in the crook of John’s neck. He breathed deeply. Sighed contentedly. Began placing feather light kisses along John’s jawline.

 _Oh, no, no, he’s gone and done it…_ John sighed quietly, eyes closing against his will, pencil tip stuttering on the page. _I really was enjoying being cross with him, but that’s just not possible anymore._

Edward’s lips quirked up into a smirk as he moved his hand to John’s collar and undid the knot of his cravat and the first few buttons of his shirt, leaving just enough room to pull the fabric away from his neck and allow Edward to continue kissing lower. He nipped gently at the delicate skin, then paused to glance up at John.

“Would you like me to stop?” He murmured. Edward’s hand moved up to gently cradle John’s neck and trace along the line of his jaw with his thumb.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he breathed, practically tossing aside the pencil as he shifted a bit to face Edward, gazing deeply into those fine brown eyes. 

Edward gave him a warm, bright smile, cupped John’s face in both hands, and leaned in to kiss him sweetly. He reached down to trace the outline of John’s thigh as a shudder passed through the man. John sighed into his mouth. Edward grinned and pulled John into his lap. He took a moment to savor the look of surprise on John’s face before leaning in to kiss him again.

“Remember how I said you’d regret interrupting us earlier?” He purred, softly nipping at John’s earlobe.

 _Oh dear…_ “I’m in for it, aren’t I?” John murmured breathily, sliding his hand up along Edward’s arm to rest on his shoulder, gripping him just so slightly.

Edward’s grin only broadened. He unbuttoned John’s collar even further and kissed the hollow of his throat. He hummed in approval when John sighed and let his head fall back, bringing his hands up to tangle in Edward’s hair and tug slightly. Edward huffed and let his eyes fall closed. He glowered playfully up at John.

“That—” he grabbed John’s wrists and held them both in one hand— “is not what we shall be doing.”

“Oh?” John allowed his wrists to be caught, gazing down at Edward with a quirked eyebrow. “What shall we be doing, then?”

Edward hummed and gave him an appraising look; his face was beautifully flushed, eyes half-lidded and dark, pink lips parted ever so slightly. Edward smiled dangerously as he guided John’s legs to straddle Edward’s lap.

“You’ll see.”

His heart skipped a few beats and he took in a sharp, but quiet breath. Not quite able to hold himself in check, John leaned in to capture Edward’s lips in a warm kiss. 

Edward received the gesture happily, melting into the sensation of John’s soft, skilled lips moving against his own. Edward brought John’s hands up and guided them to rest on either of his shoulders. He pulled back to murmur soft instructions.

“These—” he gently squeezed John’s hands— “stay right here the entire time, no matter what it is either of us is doing. Is that understood?”

Smiling as his pulse thrummed, John spared the slightest of nods, “As you wish.”

Edward nodded and rested his hands on John’s waist, running them down to his hips, across his thighs, down to his knees, and back up again. He peered up at John seriously.

“And what’s the safeword?”

“Snow,” John smiled, leaning in to touch his forehead to Edward’s.

“Good.” Edward leaned up to place a chaste kiss to John’s cheek, then his lips. He moved down to nip and suckle lovely purple marks on the creamy white skin of his throat. Edward’s hand crept up between John’s thighs. He felt John’s breath stutter and his fingers dig into Edward’s shoulders.

“Remember, love.” He said smugly. “Hands don’t move.”

At that moment George entered the parlor, looking over the few letters delivered only moments ago. He paused his steps and glanced up to look over the tableaux before him, lips slowly forming a smile that was closer to a smirk than anything else.  
  
“Ah-hah,” George practically sang, “ _now_ who’s being unproductive?”

Edward shot a nasty glower over John’s shoulder and growled, “Not _now_ , George.”

 _Ah, so this is what it feels like…_ John sighed in quiet frustration, looking over his shoulder to take in the sight of George looking quite smug.

Positively amused, George set aside the letters and came over to join, sitting down just beside them and lounging back. “Oh dear, have I interrupted something?” His eyes focused on John rather than Edward, eyebrows arched.

Narrowing his eyes, John said, “ _Very_ amusing, George. You’re so amusing I quite forgot to laugh.”

“Come come, don’t be like that, dearie,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss John’s cheek and then Edward’s.

Edward glared daggers at George, hands still clutching John’s waist and lips still lingering on his throat. “You’d better tell me you’re waltzing in here to join us, or so help me you are doomed, George. Doomed.”

“Oh? You wouldn’t mind me joining you both?” George feigned polite consideration.

Edward arched an eyebrow. “Join. Or watch. Or both. Up to you.” He kissed John’s neck with a slow, lingering, open mouth. His eyes never strayed from George’s face.

Smiling slow like honey, George curled up against Edward’s side, leaning in to kiss and lightly lick the curve of his ear, raising his hand to trace over the back of John’s neck and curl into his hair.

Edward groaned softly and rested his forehead on John’s chest, taking a moment to breathe through the blissful shudders passing through him. He would have stayed there a while longer had he not heard John’s sudden whine, or felt the needy cant of his hips. Edward chuckled and gave an apologetic kiss to his collarbone, then turned to George.

“I assume you caught a glance at what we were doing?”

“Oh yes, Neddy darling,” George winked, expression wicked.

Edward grinned. “Care to pick up where I left off?”

“Would I?” George grinned, giving his cheek a light stroke, “darling, do you really need to ask?”

Bringing the hand that had stroked Edward’s cheek over to wrap around John’s throat, warm and with the slightest bit of pressure. Leaning in, George kissed, nipped, and licked a trail from the spot below John’s ear to the curve, eliciting a shiver and soft sigh from his younger lover.

Someone in the hallway very loudly cleared their throat.

“Pardon the interruption, sirs—”

“God _dammit!_ ” Howled Edward.

“— but Mister Hartnell has just arrived.”

“God fucking Jesus Christ lordy fuck fucking fuck Christ god dammit!” He roared.

Despite being thoroughly distracted and left hanging, John reflexively smacked Edward’s arm. “ _Edward Thomas Little_ ! Have you no _respect_?”

“John dear, you should know by now that he doesn’t,” George closed his eyes with a sigh, turning back to lounge against the settee, doing his utmost best not to pout.

“I’ll show him to the parlour in about five minutes, then.” Erheardt was striding down the hall and back toward the front door before anyone had any time to reply.

Edward grasped at John and George’s waist.

“Fuck!” He growled. “Fucking hell!”

“Bother,” was all John could say, shifting so that he no longer straddled Edward’s lap, sitting beside him instead and focusing on getting a hold of himself. 

Edward growled again and stood to pace the room, running his hands through his hair and closing his eyes. He tried to focus on his breathing and count to ten. Tried very, very hard not to think of how this was the second time in as many hours that he’d been left hanging, but no— no— no matter. Hartnell was here, and they’d have to focus on that. He would have to focus on that. Hartnell. Vampires. A case. The case. They had a case to work on.

Eventually, Edward heaved an enormous sigh, smoothed back his hair, and adjusted his collar. Fine. He was fine.

Rising, George did his level best to shake off the desire radiating in him, coming to stand by the little table just as Mrs. Brancaster, their housekeeper, entered the room with the tea tray followed by Erhardt and Mr. Thomas Hartnell.

Thanking both Brancaster and Hartnell with a gaze, George turned to greet Hartnell.

“Good to see you, Thomas. Tea?”

“Thank you, yes,” he smiled, coming forward to greet him, John, and Edward with a handshake. “Good to see you, gentlemen.”

Edward gave a polite nod and gestured for him to sit in his usual armchair by the small tea table. Edward poured the tea, handed everyone their cup, and settled on the settee beside John. He tried to ignore the pull in his hand that urged him to place it on John’s knee, keeping his hands firmly on the saucer in his lap.

“How have you been, Thomas? I hope everything is well with you,” John voiced, meeting the man’s gaze as he stirred his tea.

“Oh I’ve been very well, thanks,” Thomas answered, taking one scone from the dish offered to him by George. “Training some new recruits, which is always interesting.”

“Anyone promising?” Asked Edward.

“Three, actually, and the other two will be sent back to their day jobs by weeks’ end,” Thomas chuckled. “It’s a pity because one was so entirely enthusiastic about the work, but he’d be more hindrance than help.”

Edward nodded. “Safer for them, though— if they truly understand the nature of the work.” He took a sip of his tea and gazed meaningfully at the tablecloth and didn’t bother elaborating.

“It’s more that he lacks the necessary discretion and is a bit too clumsy for this line of work.”

“Oh yes, that does pose a bit of a problem,” George agreed, sipping his tea, hiding his amusement over how such a person could function as an informant.

“To put it mildly, yes,” Thomas smiled in agreement. “Anyway, I have a case for you.”

“Oh?” George quirked an eyebrow.

Edward’s eyes flicked up from the table.

“A coven of seven vampires in Canterbury.” Fishing out a set of folded papers from his pocket, Thomas handed them to George who took them and readily examined them.

After looking over the information and address detailed in the papers, George moved to stand near the settee where John and Edward sat, handing off the papers to John who held them up in a position so he and Edward could look over it together.

Edward shot a glance at George, then leaned to gaze over John’s shoulder at the paper. He gave an amused huff.

“Your informants, Mister Hartnell, appear to be more useful than intelligence from a certain hunter.” He said dryly.

“We pride ourselves on being the best source of intel, Mister Little,” Thomas winked, knowing perfectly well who the man was referring to.

George smiled, taking a seat on Edward’s other side, “The pride is well earned, Thomas. I can assure you of that.”

Edward gave George a pointed look. George didn’t seem to pay him any mind.

“Thank you, George,” Thomas raised his teacup in response.

George returned the gesture, taking a deep sip of the tea. “Incidentally, I wonder if you have any intelligence on a coven located in Westminster? Bembridge Court?”

“Westminster you say?” Eyebrows slightly furrowed, Thomas reached into his coat pocket for one of his notebooks. After a few moments of careful inspection he found the entry he was looking for.

“Yes, twenty-two Bembridge Court. Three vampires, three familiars- ah, no, that’s one familiar now. The other two were killed by hunter Jopson.”

Edward’s jaw clenched. He balled his hands into fists and pressed them to his legs to keep their tremors from being too obvious. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and muttered with as much venom as he could humanly muster: “God _damn_ that man.”

John set aside teacup and saucer with a resounding clink, rising and proceeding to stand at the window, looking out. His heart and lungs were clenched so tightly he almost couldn’t breathe. “Hell is too good a place for that man,” he muttered to himself.

Jaw clenched, George’s eyes flashed for a moment before he took a breath and forced himself to remain entirely composed. It wasn’t at all easy. He looked at Thomas for a long moment before narrowing his eyes, “You seemed a bit surprised that I inquired about this particular coven. I take this to mean that there have not been many disturbances involving these three vampires?”

Shaking his head, Thomas affirmed, “Correct, no incidents that my informants have noted and we’ve had eyes on them for a few months now.”

“Hm, that’s quite interesting…” George mused, thoughtful for several moments before he refocused his gaze on Thomas. “Might I borrow that notebook for a moment? I’d rather like to take down this information.”

“By all means,” Thomas handed the notebook to George, careful to keep it open to the correct page.

Taking it in hand, George stood and moved briskly toward the writing desk near the window where John stood. He caught John’s hand and gave a gentle squeeze, catching his gaze for a moment before sitting down to take pen to paper.

Edward huffed and shook his head, pulling himself upright and turning to face the other two.

“Anything noteworthy?” He tried to keep the strain from his voice, but there was still a thread of tension in his query.

“It’s interesting the vampires don’t go out very often and the familiar isn’t seen bringing anyone to the residence,” George spoke while continuing to write at a quick pace. “Could be they don’t feed as often as other vampires we’ve come across, which means they might not be as feral and bloodthirsty.”

“Could be,” John concurred, finally turning away from the window to encompass everyone in his gaze.

“Or they could just be clever about covering their tracks,” muttered Edward, his face turning dark and stormy.

“Either way it’s all speculation at this point.” George finished his notations. He stood and moved toward Thomas’ armchair, placing the notebook back into his hand.

Taking note of the time on the grandfather clock along the wall opposite, John caught Thomas’ gaze. “We’ll be leaving soon for luncheon. Would you like to join us Thomas?”

“Oh yes, do,” George chimed in, smiling.

“As much as I’d like to, I have to get back. Recruits don’t train themselves,” he laughed, rising to his feet. “Perhaps another time, gentlemen.”

“Another time, then,” John smiled, rising as well. “Give our best to the network.”

“Will do,” Thomas offered a cheeky salute. 

“Do have a good day,” George grinned, coming over to shake his hand again, followed by John.

Edward rose and shook his hand as well.

“Take care, Mister Hartnell,” he said sternly.

“You as well, Mister Little,” Thomas replied in a similar manner, adopting a vaguely stoic attitude. 

When Erhardt came to show him out, he raised his hat to them, “Good day, gentlemen.”

When he and Erhardt had gone, George turned and looked at Edward with a raised eyebrow. “Why so stern and stoic whenever we have guests of the trade to visit?”

Edward waited until he could no longer hear Erheardt and Hartnell’s footsteps before he turned to George.

“It is a professional engagement, more or less. One should act as such, assuming they know the meaning of professionalism.” He clasped his hands behind his back and dryly raised an eyebrow, waiting for George to contradict him.

George arched his eyebrow higher and stared at him with a steely gaze for a long moment before snapping his finger. A moment later the sound of fluttering wings preceded the appearance of Njord, one of George’s other birds, a Black Sicklebill bird of paradise. Njord landed on the hand George held aloft.

Smiling quite wickedly, George pointed at Edward and said, “ _Pester_.”

Immediately the bird took flight and went for Edward, his rather lengthy tail feathers swatting the man in the face as it turned and hovered, tail feathers hitting him in the face again.

Edward sputtered and stumbled back, nearly landing on his arse before he untangled his feet and began to swat at the thing.

“God damn you, George! You and your stupid, awful, terrible bat-bird! Evil little cretin— get off!— _oof!_ ”

Edward would have loved nothing more than to hurl further insults and swears at the creature, but it was rather difficult to do so with a mouthful of tail feathers. He sputtered and spat them out.

Snapping his fingers again, George called off Njord, smiling when he returned to perch on his hand. “Yes, I do believe it’s time for luncheon now.” He smiled placidly as though nothing out of the ordinary had just taken place and turned, leaving the room with Njord still perched on his hand.

John stood with crossed arms just looking at Edward with hoisted eyebrows as if asking, ‘ _Haven’t you learned not to antagonize him?_ ’

Edward huffed and shook himself like a dog, glowering at George and the bird like they were co-conspirators in some great plot that would end in his downfall. The longer he looked, the more sure he was that the bird looked just as smug as George.

Edward turned to John with a wild look in his eyes.

“Those vicious little things have it out for me.”

“Perhaps they wouldn’t if you weren’t so antagonistic towards them all the time.”

Edward shot John a warning look. “Don’t you start on that again.”

Shaking his head, John lightly patted his bicep before turning and following after George.

Edward huffed and shook his head, following after and muttering about nasty creatures with unjustified vendettas.

George stood in the entryway waiting for them. “About time,” he smirked just so slightly, taking his coat and umbrella from Erhardt. He waited for the others to don their coats. Erhardt opened the door for them and George followed the others outside into the rainy March day.

~*~

“... I take the first two on the left, John takes the first two on the right, and George takes the last on either side. At the moment we’re outnumbered two to one, so let’s try and knock out as many as we can before they start waking up.” He glanced back at the other two. “We’re all in agreement?”

Nodding in the affirmative, John reached into his pocket for one of many silver daggers he had on his person.

George had been about to agree as well when—looking into the church from their vantage point in the narthex—he caught sight of the grand pipe organ behind the altar. _Such a grand instrument demands to be played!_

“New plan,” George turned back to the other two, “well, no, same plan, only minor deviation- I’ll play the frequency on the organ there. You both take care of as many as you can while they’re down and I’ll pick up the spares.”

Edward blinked. “Wait— what? George, what—? George!”

With that George left them before they could agree or disagree, making his way with stealthy speed toward the organ, disappearing into the shadows.

Edward started, dumbstruck and blinking; then he sighed and shook off his bafflement, turning to John.

“Right. New plan. I take the three on the left, you take the three on the right. George does… whatever it is he does, and we hope that the pipe organ is at least mostly in tune. Deal?”

“Agreed,” John nodded and pressed a soft kiss to Edward’s lips, sympathizing with him. _Not certain if it’s just me, but he appears as though he’s aged ten years in the past two minutes._

Edward sighed and grabbed John’s hand, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. Edward smiled fondly.

“Shall we?” He murmured.

“After you,” John smiled, making a slight gesture with his free hand toward the nave of the church. 

Edward smiled and squeezed his hand. They turned and made their way in with careful steps, silently stopping in the center of the nave. Edward faced the wall to the left and drew his pistols. John faced the wall to the right and drew his knives.

Meanwhile, at the organ, George took a seat and flexed his fingers. Grinning wickedly, he began to play a few scales to judge the state of the instrument and quality of sound. It wasn’t in the best of shape and not entirely in tune—not a surprise given that this cathedral had been abandoned for some time—but it was passable and wouldn’t be completely horrific to hear. _I think I know just the piece_ , George grinned again, launching into Rossini’s _William Tell Overture_ with great gusto and panache.

Edward shook his head. “Always with the theme music,” he muttered.

John had been about to agree when to his right one of the coffins ensconced in the wall beyond the row of pews suddenly burst open and a male vampire launched himself from his resting place. The vampire was tall, quite broad, with flaxen hair that was held in a long braid. John was a bit surprised to note that this vampire looked every inch a viking.

“Fuck!” He bellowed. “Fucking fuck— hunters! Halvdan, I told you this was a bad idea!”

 _Looks like this one hasn’t adapted to the times,_ John mused as he reflexively dodged managing to whirl and find an opening to drive his silver dagger straight into his heart.

Two other coffin lids were thrown open, this time it was another male and a female. The male was on the shorter side, more lanky, possessing long ginger hair that reached below his shoulder blades. His hair was held loose but contained several small braids here and there. The female was tall, slender, but with curves in all the right places. Her long blonde hair was held loose also, though dotted with far more braids that contained tresses of varying colors: red, brown, and black.

Noticing the hunter before them, she and the male both went for him but it was she who caught him first and shoved him aside into a pew. Casting a swift glance around she saw the other hunter had killed one of their number.

“Oh- I can’t believe this- they murdered Agnar!” The blond fumed, eyes flashing, fangs elongating. “These Englander scum!”

The lanky male turned to the woman. “Actually, dearest, it’s _English_ scum. We went over this, remember?”

The woman tossed her hair aside, eyes flashing, “ _Now_ ? You correct my English _now,_ in this moment?”

The three coffins to the left burst open at once; out stepped a huge, hulking beast whose blond beard and wild hair draped down to his waist: a tall female vampire whose bare arms were roped with thick muscle: and another blond bearded vampire, this one half the size of the first, but looking very, very angry— he was the one who spoke first.

“What the fuck do you mean they murdered Agnar? And who the fuck brought home the humans? I thought we all agreed to eat outside!”

Edward narrowed his eyes. He raised his pistol and aimed.

“We’re hunters, and there will be no eating of anyone on our watch.”

Edward pulled the trigger— there was a loud BANG! The vampire fell to the floor with an unholy screech, clutching at the steaming, sizzling bullet wound in his chest. There was a moment of stillness; then, the vampire let out one last cry, and crumbled into a pile of ash.

Edward cocked his gun and turned to the other two.

“Right. Who’s next?”

Letting out an unholy hiss, the multi-braided blonde turned her fury to the ginger haired vampire near her. “Oh by Loki’s arse! Now they murdered Sigvard! This is intolerable, and it is all your fault Halvdan! You brought us to this shit place!”

Halvdan— the redhead— turned to the female and scowled.

“Why do you care about Smidvarg dying? You hated the guy! He was always complaining about everything, and he never bothered cleaning up after he ate! Revna, he got blood on your new coffin lid!”

“Yes, yes, he complained a lot and was a sloppy bastard, but he was a good fuck!” Revna retorted, glaring at him as she made a sharp gesture with her hand, sending Halvdan backward to fall on his arse.

Halvdan yelped as he landed on an old stone sarcophagus and cracked the lid. He rose with a scowl and shouted a string of rude words in a mix of English and a language that Edward couldn’t understand.

“What the hell, Revna?!” Halvdan paused and his scowl deepened. “Damn— was he really that good? I should have tried him while I had the chance.”

Rather than interfere with what was clearly a lover’s quarrel, Edward turned to help John with the other female vampire.

Along the wall near John, another sarcophagus door was thrown open and another female vampire leapt out. She was taller than the other females, her hair closely cropped at the sides while she sported a long braided ponytail. Her face was almost heart-shaped and her eyes seemed kind, but her stance and set of her jaw spoke to her deadliness.

“Sigrid, who have we lost?”

Sigrid, the stockist of the females, sent a glance over her shoulder at the one exiting her coffin. “Good to see you up, Torvi. Agnar and Smidgvard are dead, and Halvdan and Revna are at it again. No idea where Einar is.” Sigrid drew a long, sharp sword from the scabbard in her hand and slid into a fighting stance. “Shall we?” Sigrid nodded to John.

“Thought you’d never ask,” John smiled, placid and good-natured even as he spritzed her in the face with the hidden vial of holy water he’d latched to his wrist and was hidden beneath his coat sleeve. Sigrid shrieked and stumbled back, clutching her eyes and face. He aimed to strike her through the heart with his dagger but she dodged and made a strong stab at John. He barely stumbled back in time to avoid the blade piercing his stomach.

Sigrid rose to her full height, grey eyes flashing, her pale, unmarred face split with a wicked grin.

“Good try, Englishman, but I have my own gods to protect me.”

“Your Christ god means nothing to us,” Torvi laughed, her blue eyes dancing with amusement as she wrapped her fingers around the hunter’s throat, lifting him into the air. A moment later she was no longer laughing. Crying out, she threw him aside and held her forearm up, a line of skin sizzling. Somehow the man had caught her on the arm with his blade.

Sigrid went to aid Torvi, but a mass of black lunged between her and the other vampire. A crack like thunder rang throughout the church; Sigrid howled and clutched at her chest— when she drew her hand away, it was painted with blood. Sigrid growled and turned to face Edward as the hunter drew a long wooden stake from a holster by his hip.

“You may not believe in our god,” he said, “but even stakes and silver will do for the likes of you.”

Edward lunged at the vampire, and they fought and tore and stabbed at each other like a pair of howling devils.

Hissing in anger, Torvi launched herself at them in an effort to protect her lover when the other lighter haired hunter caught her by the arm and threw her back against her sarcophagus. 

“None of that now, thank you,” John whirled once and then twice to avoid her long nailed grasp as she flew at him. He managed to get his crossbow up in time to launch a silver tipped bolt at her.

She caught the bolt in her hand just inches from her chest. “You will have to try harder, little hunter.”

 _Little hunter, indeed!_ Eyes narrowed, John said, “There’s plenty more where that came from.” Launching a swipe at her face with his dagger, he levelled another blow to her chest with his right hand, also holding a dagger now. However, she whirled, deflecting his attacks easily and grabbed him, throwing back against the wall.

 _Oh, not again,_ John thought as he flew backward, hitting the wall, the wind knocked out of him. _I really am so tired of being thrown about like this._

While Edward and John handled the other female vampires, George was getting into his stride with the piece when he sensed a presence creeping up on him. _No you don’t. No one interrupts my playing_. He looked to his left and noticed the candle he’d lit earlier formulating a quick plan. He allowed the vampire to creep closer, just close enough for him to continue playing with one hand while reaching for the candle holder. With force he performed a backward jab, knowing he’d hit his mark when he felt some squishy resistance as the lit end of the candle was propelled into the vampire’s eye.

A second later, however, the male hulking giant pounded his extremely large fist down onto the keys just an inch from where George’s hand had been a moment before. Then there was a forceful impact from the vampire’s other fist into his shoulder. Thrown from the bench, George rolled and got to his feet, none too pleased.

“Now that really was most unnecessary. If you truly had an issue with my playing you could have said so,” George chided him, as if chastising a child. He drew from behind his back his two violin bows which had been re-stringed with silver wire and—leaping forward—caught the vampire across the face and neck with the bows. 

The vampire let out a furious guttural growl, making a swipe at him, which George ducked and quickly shoved him backwards- over the rail and down into the altar where he heard a great crash and the sound of something breaking.

Hearing the crash, John looked toward the altar to see the crucifix had been smashed and broken by the incredibly large male vampire who was in the process of dusting himself off. He might have vented his displeasure at the destruction of the crucifix had he not had to throw himself over a pew to avoid the vampire he was facing off with.

“Little hunter, you pose no challenge, it is sad.”

 _How is this for a challenge?_ John rolled between the pews and when she passed close he let fly a bolt that caught her directly in the heart. 

She shrieked, clutching at her chest and tried to rip the bolt out, but it was stuck quite firmly. “ _Sigrid!_ ” She fell, her body rippling, becoming ash before she hit the ground.

Edward and Sigrid’s fight paused as they both turned to see Torvi hit the floor as a pile of ash. Sigrid’s face went slack for a moment; Edward watched her carefully, but didn’t dare strike until he knew what her next move would be. The vampire let out a roar and charged at John like a bull. Edward raised his gun and fired. Sigrid shouted and fell to the floor, clutching her leg. The vampire growled and turned to shoot a vicious glare at Edward. Rising to her feet, she let out a hiss and raised her sword to brace for a blow from either of them.

Catching sight John and Edward below, George knew it was time. He swiftly replaced his bows into their sling and withdrew his antique modified key pistol and took out the hulking vampire with a single shot. Satisfied, he moved back to the organ.

Very much upset with the fact that his playing had been so rudely interrupted, George smiled wickedly and played the frequency that so affected vampire kind. It was equivalent to a pitch used in dog whistles- a frequency only vampires could hear and which incapacitates them. Bleeding ears and ears, problems with equilibrium and disorientation chief among the symptoms and reactions.

Down in the nave bellow, the vampires all let out vicious howls and shrieks and curses as they clutched at their ears. Blood dripped out from under their hands and between their fingers. Sigrid pulled back her ruby red lips and hissed, grey eyes now glowing a hellish red. She lunged at Edward with the power of a lioness, but she’d been so disoriented by the frequency that she missed him by a foot. Edward stepped to the side, aimed, and pulled the trigger; Sigrid collapsed, screaming and writhing for a moment before crumbling to a pile of ash. John and Edward turned to the remaining vampires and braced themselves.

Though she fell to her knees in anguish, Revna remained furious, “That is it! When we make it out of here I am leaving with Einar! This place is trouble and filth! We will go to Poveglia- at least people will leave us alone there. I do not wish to see you again for at least two centuries, do you hear me Halvdan!”

Halvdan scowled and pulled himself to his feet again, gritting his teeth and hissing. “Two centuries?! That’s nothing! I don’t want to see you anytime in the next millenia!”

“That is enough!” John shouted to get their attention. “Are you not at all concerned that your entire coven is dead?” 

Halvdan turned and blinked. He looked around the room for a moment, turned back to John, and shrugged. “No loss, really. I only put up with them because _someone_ —” he turned back to Revna— “just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving behind all her friends when we moved to England!”

Rolling his eyes, John took up his daggers again and lunged at the diminutive vampire, not one to toss away the opportunity while the vampires were being affected by the frequency.

Halvdan was quicker than he realized, though, and the vampire had dodged his attack and tossed him to Revna before he realized what was happening.

“John!” Cried Edward, surging forward to do something— anything— to keep him from being killed.

Still bleeding from ears and eyes, Revna managed to catch the hunter who was named John. She had him by the scruff of his neck, her sharpened nails digging deep enough into his skin to draw blood.

“Why do you toss this one to me? Can you not handle the hunter on your own?” She scathed, glaring at him and throwing the man back at her ridiculous husband.

 _I suppose I should just resign myself to being thrown about like a potato_. Bracing for the impact, John was knocked back into both Edward and the vampire, Halvdan- all of them thrown to the floor from the velocity.

As he shook himself, John realized he was actually on top of both Edward and Halvdan. “Ah, well this is most convenient,” John murmured with a smile, plunging his dagger into the vampire’s heart.

Seeing this and taking sight of all her other brethren destroyed, Revna’s face fell. The fury was still there, but now exhaustion coated her expression. 

“Keep your England. I want no part of it and will return to the old country,” she threw at them, whirling about only to be met with a bolt launched into her heart.

“Many apologies, but we simply cannot allow that.” George smiled charmingly, the violin he’d repurposed as a crossbow held at the ready.

Screaming, she lunged for him but her body dissolved into so much ash. Her voice still echoed through the cathedral for several moments before it dissipated into nothing.

Edward turned to John, his face lined with worry.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Never better,” he smiled, attempting to play it off as George often did. He wasn’t certain if it would work. 

Tutting him, George removed his plain looking cravat and coming to kneel down beside John. When he attempted to carefully wipe away the blood from John’s neck he discovered a problem. “Oh dear,” he muttered when he realized his left shoulder was actually dislocated. “That’s not a bit good…” he sighed when his wrist flopped to the side, more loose than it should be.

Edward glanced over John’s shoulder just in time to see George’s hand bend in entirely the wrong direction; he blanched.

“Good Christ, George! What happened?”

Every nerve in Edward’s body was screaming for him to get up and tend to George, but John was still on top of him.

“Lord, George- _how_?” John’s eyes widened with worry and anxiety. He was instantly up and at George’s side, removing his bloodied cravat to use to wrap his wrist to keep it steady. 

“Hm, not certain- I suppose somehow in the scuffle the large one managed to get me,” George mused, “or I might have done it myself in dodging. I couldn’t say.”

That was when John noticed the bit of blood dripping from George’s ears. “Your ears! They’re bleeding.”

“Really?” George lifted his uninjured hand to lightly touch his ear, bringing his hand away to see traces of blood on his fingertips. “Oh dear, that’s strange. Can’t imagine how that happened.”

Edward scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off, making his way toward the other two.

“Whatever it was, we need to get you— Christ!” His leg gave out midstep and he hit the floor with an undignified, _oof!_ He grit his teeth as tearing pain shot out from his knee. “ _Ow._ ”

“Neddy, your leg!” George moved quickly toward him, winding his arm around Edward’s waist to carefully help him up, forgetting his wrist injury as he caught his other hand, intending to help over to the pew to sit.

“ _George!_ You’ll worsen your injuries!” John rushed over to help them.

“John dear, it’s fine, I can’t feel it, but Neddy can process pain- so do let’s get him taken care of first,” George waved it off.

“Absolutely not!” Cried Edward. “Not like this at least!”

George paused and gave him a curious glance; Edward unwound the man’s arm from his waist, then rested his hand on George’s good shoulder. He nodded resolutely.

“There,” he said, “now we can move.”

Sparing a small indulgent smile, George helped him toward the pew and eased him to sit while John knelt before him. “Tell me what’s happening with your leg,” John directed him.

“It’s my knee. Doesn’t feel like a broken bone, don’t think it’s dislocated. Must have hit a nerve.” Edward grit his teeth as John adjusted his leg.

Carefully inspecting and probing the knee and leg, he realized what could be the problem. “Seems to me you’ve sprained your knee,” John told him. He reached up to unknot and removed Edward’s cravat before casting his glance to George, “I’ll need your cravat as well.”

“Oh, right, yes- a splint.” George removed his cravat with his good hand, passing it over to John. “Ah, yes, you’ll need some wood, too.” He quickly busied himself locating scraps from the broken down pews not far from them.

John took the offered scraps and selected two that were steady and intact. “Ned, I’m going to slowly stretch your leg out. When I do I need you to hold these on either side near the knee for me to tie off.”

Edward carefully did as he was told, taking the wooden scraps and holding them to either side of his knee. He glanced at John.

“I know we’re in a church right now, but I can’t guarantee I won’t swear.”

“Please try, Ned,” John sighed. He quickly, but carefully, stretched the leg out- not wishing to draw out the task for Edward’s sake.

The blood drained from Edward’s face almost instantly.

“ _Jesus fucking Christ fucking hell!_ ”

“ _Edward!_ ” Upset on John’s behalf, George had to stifle the impulse to swat his shoulder.

Edward gritted his teeth. “You said _try_ , and I did. Wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.”

“Better get the rest taken care of, then,” John then took George’s cravat and began winding it around the top part of the splint. He caught his lover’s eyes to tell him to brace himself just before he drew tight the ends, tying it off. Continuing his task, he used Edward’s cravat now to tie around the bottom part of the splint, ensuring it was good and tight to provide stability.

“There we are.” John leaned in to kiss Edward’s temple. “Thank you for holding it in.”

Edward huffed and flexed his fingers around the edge of the pew. His knee was throbbing now, a sensation of hot pain that ebbed and flowed with no particular rhythm or beat in mind. He let out a long, shaky breath.

“Right, then.” He muttered. Edward inhaled sharply and glanced between the other two. “George— how’s your arm? And John, are you injured?”

George rolled his eyes with a little laugh, “It’s quite splendid, thank you.”

Glancing between them both, John said to George, “None of that. I’m tending to you next,” and to Edward he said, “No, just my neck is a bit scratched and everything else is sore limbs and strained muscles.”

Edward closed his eyes and sighed. “Not too bad, then.” With only a hint of bitterness, he quietly resigned himself to sitting there uselessly until Erheardt arrived with the carriage. He opened his eyes and nodded.

“Right. Tend to the leper so we can go home, then.”

“ _EDWARD!_ ” George and John spoke out simultaneously with George actually swatting him this time and John looking at him with wide-eyed shock.

“That isn’t at all amusing, Edward Thomas Little,” John left him and went over to George whom he coaxed into sitting down, the better to help him with his shoulder.

Edward stifled his giggle, but failed miserably to conceal his grin. “It is a bit amusing.”

“Not a bit,” George glared, not even aware when John wrenched his shoulder back into place. “In fact this leper will have no congress with you until you make amends for that rude and ill-considered comment.”

Edward’s jaw dropped as his face screwed into a look of horrified betrayal. Snapping his mouth shut, he scowled and shook his head. 

“That’s a low blow, old boy, even for you.”

Someone in the back of the church cleared their throat.

“Your carriage, sirs.”

Edward craned his neck to see Erheardt standing in the doorway, gazing about the room with a palpable sense of disapproval— no doubt silently scolding them for making such a mess of things.

“Excellent, Erhardt, thank you.” George took John’s hand before addressing Edward again, “You know the remedy and it really is quite simple.” He held out his other hand, unmindful of the injury.

Edward sighed and took his hand, placing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Apologies, George. Didn’t intend to hurt any feelings.”

George smiled a little, though it was a ghost of a smile. “I may not be able to register physical pain, but I can still be wounded, Neddy darling.”

Edward kissed the inside of his wrist. “I know, and I am sorry.”

“Thank you,” George murmured, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Now, I do think it’s time we head back. Your leg will need further tending to.” He quickly stole another kiss before he and John helped Edward up and along to the carriage outside. _I’ll just come by sometime tomorrow to do a bit of clean up,_ George reminded himself. That would have to be after he and the others had time to rest and recover. _Perhaps a vacation might be in order quite soon_.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are very much encouraged and will only provide further motivation for us to continue writing, so if you enjoy this work, please leave comments. ❤️ Thank you!


	3. And now for something completely different…

_ It’s entirely too disquieting how silent he’s been _ , John thought as he glanced at George for what seemed to be the hundredth time during the ride home. His lover was gazing out the carriage window—had been for the entire ride—and had not spoken since they left the church. 

The quiet hadn’t escaped Edward’s notice, either, nor did John’s worrying looks. He tried to catch John’s eyes and silently reassure him, but John kept his eyes on George. Edward would have kicked the man to get his attention, were it not for the fact that he was sitting too far away to use his good leg. As it was, the carriage was silent; too silent. He didn’t like it.

Seeing George suddenly blink, appearing to come back to himself, John opened his mouth to speak but George spoke first.

“Ah, we’re home at last.” He said, the carriage turning the corner onto their street. “Don’t know about you, but I’m for a cuppa.”

Edward raised an eyebrow, eyes flickering between the other two.

“A cuppa sounds perfect,” John voiced, deciding it was perhaps best to save his question for later. 

A minute later the carriage stopped in front of their townhouse. Erhardt appeared outside the door and opened it.

Being closest to the door, George stepped out and held out his hand for John. His hand was gently pushed aside and after a glance at his lover, George realized his mistake in holding out his injured wrist. Shaking his head to himself he offered his arm instead.

Lips forming a small smile, John looped his arm through George’s and turned back to offer his arm to Edward for him to lean on. 

Edward limped from the carriage, grasping John’s arm and letting himself be led to the door. His knee howled in protest at being used. Edward grimaced. The pain was still there and just as strong as before, throbbing and aching and making him grit his teeth with every step. It was a relief when they made it through the door and he could lean on the wall for support. He let Erheardt take his coat and turned to the others.

“I do understand that we normally go straight to the washroom, but could someone help me to the parlour? I’d rather like to sit down.” His voice was audibly strained, and there was a pleading note to his voice that the others didn’t miss.

John and George exchanged a glance between them and smiled. George came over to offer his arm so he and John could both support Edward. 

“What makes you think we weren’t intending to do just that?” George asked, giving him an indulgent look.

Edward gave him a weary glance and made a sound that was something between a sigh and the word, “honestly.” He put most of his weight on George as he hobbled between the two of them, but to his chagrin George didn’t balk or falter under his bulk. Edward really never would understand how such a slight thing such as George could carry so much weight— then again, he supposed he shouldn’t complain. If George wasn’t indeed as strong as he was, then Edward’s weight certainly would have bowled him over, and then where would they be?

_ Certainly nowhere good,  _ he mused as they set him down on the settee. Edward huffed and tried to ignore the pinpricks shooting through his knee.

“Thank you,” he said leaning back onto the seat.

George busied himself with locating the ottoman, bringing it over to Edward and carefully— _ most _ carefully—lifting his leg to stretch out upon it while John directed Erhardt to have tea brought up. 

Remaining in a kneeling position, George let his hand rest lightly on Edward’s leg, raising his gaze to meet his lover’s eyes. “We’re on medical leave as of this moment until we’re cleared for active duty by our good doctors.”

Edward groaned and flopped back onto the couch. He closed his eyes and listened to the blood pulse through his ears; it was better to focus on that than the throbbing of his knee.

“I suppose this means I’m under house arrest, then?” He grumbled.

Smiling patiently, George took Edward’s hand and twined their fingers together. “You suppose correctly, darling.” He leaned in to kiss Edward’s temple. 

The next moment gentle harp melodies reached their ears. George turned to see John seated at his harp, the one George had had custom made in the shape of a seahorse. The sight brought a warm smile to his lips, and the sounds John produced were entirely so soothing. He knew he wouldn’t be playing any of his instruments anytime soon until his wrist sorted itself out, so it was wonderful to know John would provide the music he desperately needed and craved.

Moved by the music, he left Edward to his sulking—which was a common occurrence in situations like this—and went to join John, stepping up to the other end of the harp, leaning so slightly against it with his hands on either side of the wood. Closing his eyes he simply listened and enjoyed the gentle vibration, all his wary thoughts and musings from the carriage ride home began to fade. All that mattered was this moment, the music, the vibrations, and communing with John in this— _ very _ sacred—way. 

Edward sighed and moved to face the source of the music; he opened his eyes to see John sat at the harp, shoulders relaxed, hands plucking the strings with a delicacy that never ceased to amaze him. His face was a perfect picture of serenity. George stood across from him with his hands on the wood of the instrument, seeking to feel the vibrations in the wood through his palms, his fingers, his hands; his eyes were closed and his face was slack with meditative concentration. For a moment the whole world fell away.

There was no more pain, no more aches and throbs in Edward’s body, no more responsability or danger. There was just him, his George, and his John: his lovers. Seeing them cocooned in intimacy and peace like this would never grow old. He could watch them for hours and never once would the thrum of affection in his chest wane or cease to beat.

And yet— still…

Edward clenched his jaw. There was a thread of tension that refused to abade. Some apprehension that pulled his shoulders taut and refused to let go, a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that churned to the point of distraction. He didn’t want to dwell on it— really, he didn’t— but it was hard to let go.

Just as John reached the end of the piece, Daisy entered the room with the tea tray and arranged it upon the table near the settee. When it was clear there were no further orders, she cast a concerned glance at Mr. Little before scurrying away to see to her other tasks.

Rising, John left the harp and gave George’s arm a gentle stroke before moving to the table, pouring out the tea and offering cup and saucer to Edward. All the while, George remained at the harp, hands on either side and eyes still closed, chasing the memory of the sound and vibrations as his wary thoughts slowly returned to him.

Edward watched George with a keen eye. He noted the furrow of his brow: the tension of his mouth: the slight tremble of his fingers. Edward frowned.

“George?” He called.

Hearing Edward call his name brought him out of his not so pleasant reverie. Opening his eyes he found them waiting for him, tea served out upon the table.

“Oh, yes, tea.” He murmured, more to himself than to be heard by the others. He removed his hands from the harp and came to join them, accepting the cup and saucer John offered. “Thank you, dearie.” He took a seat beside Edward, taking care not to jostle him.

Edward watched him move with calculated gestures and careful grace— same as usual— but he could see the same thread of tension tugging on his own shoulders also tormented George’s. Edward inclined his head.

“You’re thinking,” said Edward.

“Have been since we left the church,” John added, taking the seat on the other side of the settee, eyes thoughtful and concerned.

George sipped his tea, remaining silent for a few moments, putting his thoughts into order. 

“Jopson. The case he handed us— something feels completely off about it. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but everything in me is telling me there’s more to the story and to approach this differently.”

Edward nodded. “He has been known to skip over rather crucial details in the past.”

“Certainly, but for me there’s something more at play here…” Frustrated with his uncharacteristic inability to delineate his concerns with the case, he rose and paced for a moment before taking up his violin to idly pluck with his uninjured hand. 

“There’s no logical and rational reasoning I can give, no data to use to explain, it’s just a strange feeling I have.”

The fact that George was having trouble articulating exactly what it was about this particular case that had him on edge only made John more concerned. It isn’t to say that George rarely had a ‘gut’ feeling about certain things, but it was most uncommon for him to be unable to articulate in rational terms the reason why.

“We’ll approach this differently then,” John voiced, “we’ll do more preliminary surveillance before involving Hartnell’s network, providing this particular case doesn’t become time sensitive.”

Edward nodded. “Never hurts to be too careful with these things. Besides, I wouldn’t put it past Jopson to leave us to clean up his mess.”

George nodded slightly, continuing to pluck at the strings for a time. “I just wish I could understand this feeling…”

Sympathizing, John abandoned his tea and went over to George, hugging him from behind, lightly resting his chin on his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out  _ together _ , Georgie.”

Unable to stay so pensive in the face of John’s comforting presence, George’s lips turned up a small smile. “Of that, I have no doubt, dearie.” 

Edward’s eyes softened at the two of them, but still his stomach churned and his body refused to rest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

Setting aside the violin, George turned to face John and wind his arms around him, pressing his cheek to John’s. Though John’s presence and his gesture were greatly comforting, George could still feel the thoughts scurrying around the corners of his mind.  _ There’s no point in worrying about it now. Best leave it for tomorrow… _

~*~

Twilight descended upon the city. Workers made their way home, lamp lighters came out to ply their trade, and hansom cabs carried the upper classes to their soirées and dinner parties. The world continued to turn in its usual pattern while George stood watching the coven house at twenty-two Bembridge Court from his vantage point at the attic window of the house on the block behind that awaited a buyer. The attic window looked out onto the rear of the coven house, presenting a good view of the tradesman’s entrance and garden.

With Edward laid up and John playing nurse and warden it fell to George to survey the house. For the past three weeks he watched- dressed in a myriad of disguises and taking up different positions around the area at varying times each day. Thus far there was no discernable pattern save for the comings and goings of a dark haired man—a familiar— possessing a rather attractive handle-bar moustache who appeared to be employed at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. At one point a tall, lean, dark haired male vampire left just after sunset accompanied by the mustachioed man; then on another occasion the tall and lean vampire left in the company of two other male vampires: one silver-haired and the other also possessed dark hair but was a bit broader than the first one. George made an attempt to follow them but naturally they made use of their vampiric abilities and disappeared. After that there had been no further activity from the vampires.

It really was disquieting how little activity there was. He’d had to remind himself that perhaps there was more activity than he was taking in. He knew of course that vampires had the ability to shape shift or become dark mists, and had taken care to watch for animals, but all he’d noticed was a small murder of crows that appeared to enjoy perching on the trees in the garden. They always flew over to the garden and departed with some consistency every now and again. It wasn’t until he’d viewed the garden from this position that he realised why they came at regular intervals- the moustachioed familiar fed them and they’d become conditioned to the occurrence rather like Pavlov’s dogs. 

Now, standing at his post staring intently at the house with his spyglass, the moon rose and took its place in the sky. It was time to return home, to his lovers and the warmth of their company; and it was not as if he wouldn’t be on watch again tomorrow and every day after until Edward could return to work, and even then they would do as much surveillance as needed to understand this case.

~*~

John moved into position, surveying the coven house from his vantage point in the garden at the rear. All was quiet thus far, but he waited— listening closely for a length of time before moving in closer toward one of the trees, taking up a position behind it. He could somewhat see the tradesman’s entrance to the house through the overgrown shrubberies and other plants.

When there was no movement for a length of time outside in his quadrant, John swiftly stole forward making his way through the almost labyrinthine garden and into the back drive of the house. Once again pausing to ensure that the area was still silent and secure he darted forward again, reaching the exterior wall to the side of the rear door where there was a low ground level window. Kneeling down he peered through the window to find a cellar, what could have been a wine cellar. Feeling around he felt the window give just a little. There was a latch to it, but it felt old— like it could break with enough pressure. Taking a breath, John pushed against it, gradually increasing pressure each minute until it finally gave way. 

There was a sound, but not loud enough to alert— at least he hoped not. Either way he wasn’t going to risk it and so leveraged himself through the window, dropping down into the cold dark room. He listened long, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. No one seemed to be coming, so he chanced forward, striking a match and holding it long enough to get the layout of the cellar. When he caught sight of the stairs he blew out the match and made his way up and out of the room.

Just above him on the first floor, someone was moving with quick, quiet steps, unnaturally light and swift. John couldn’t hear him; he could certainly hear John. He retreated into the shadows and watched as the hunter crept from the basement and through the house.

Pausing for a moment, John sensed he wasn’t alone. He moved with quiet swiftness through the corridor and ducked into a room to his right, into what looked to be a library. Moving into the shadows of a large bookcase, he withdrew his pistol, cocking it oh so quietly as he listened, waiting.

The creature moved into the room behind him, never once leaving the sanctuary of the thick shadows. He could sense John was in the room— smell the sweat of his brow, hear the beating of his heart, feel the air move with his breath— yet he could not see the man. The creature took a breath, and spoke.

“I know you’re in here— and I know you’re already aware of my presence...”

  
Taking in a silent breath, John steeled himself and stepped out from his hiding place, pistol held at the ready— pointing it directly at the vampire stood not far from him, stoic and determined. 

The creature could smell John’s fear, adrenaline piercing the air like the scent of metal. He glanced toward the hunter’s hand; his finger was on the trigger, but the creature wasn’t dead yet. A small ray of hope flickered in his chest as he glanced up.

“I have no intention to harm you,” he said softly.

“Forgive me if I don’t quite believe you.” John kept his eyes locked on the vampire. “I understand you’ve lost two of your number and I’ve entered your home without permission. How can you  _ not _ wish to harm me?”

“I-” He stopped. “We’ve already lost enough.” He blinked. The creature swayed, trying not to collapse under the weight of his shrieking grief. “I…  _ I  _ have already lost enough.” Tears misted the corners of his eyes as he glanced down.

Standing his ground, John swallowed. This was very much unexpected. Cautiously, he asked, “One of the familiars lost was yours?”

The creature took a shaky breath. “George. The youngest.” The creature swallowed again. “He was nineteen.”

The creature tried to forget the image of his familiar lying on the ground in a pool of dark blood, his sparkling eyes gone foggy and vacant, his pale hands outstretched toward Charles’ body as if his last act on this earth was to try and help him. It was an image that seemed to be stamped on the insides of his eyelids.

“For what it’s worth, I’m quite sorry for your loss,” John told him quietly out of respect for this moment.  _ Just nineteen? So young… Damn Jopson to hell.  _ Feeling sickened, he had to force himself to remain composed and contain his righteous fury. “Sadly, the slayer who was responsible has no qualms about harming familiars if he deems it expedient in getting to his vampire quarry.”

The creature turned his head to stare at the floor by his shoes. “There’s too many like that among your lot…” He was quiet for a moment; then he inhaled sharply and looked back to the man with sharp blue eyes. “But that’s not why you’re here. Why either of us are here. I’m to take you to the parlour, if you’re amenable to it.”

Quirking an eyebrow, John stepped closer, gun still very much steady and at the ready. “The parlour? For what, an ambush?”

The creature let out a watery laugh. If it were any other day he would have been impressed with this human’s fortitude, but as it was he was too exhausted to care.

“We’re grieving, not stupid. If we wanted to stage an ambush we wouldn’t tell our targets where we were headed.” He smiled sadly. “No— we just want to talk.”

_ Considering that was  _ **_our_ ** _ plan, I’ll simply go along with it. Hopefully the others have wrangled the rest of the vampires _ . “Well then, lead and I’ll follow.” He made a slight motion with his pistol, indicating for the vampire to get moving. 

The creature stepped out of the shadows and into the open, raising his hands and keeping them in the human’s line of sight. He turned slowly and led them out of the room with careful steps.

The creature shot a steady look over his shoulder and held the human’s gaze. “I’m Graham, by the way.”

“John,” he responded simply, keeping pace behind him, aware of his surroundings and alert for anything.  _ I hope the others are alright… _

~*~

George performed a careful sweep through the upper level before working his way down, having gained access to the house from a side window and reached the top floor of the house via a narrow stairway used by the servants.

A figure trailed behind him on the stairs, lurking in the corridor like a phantom. This one was tense, coiled like a spring and ready to pounce if given the excuse.

_ I do believe I have a shadow… _ George, with his keen hearing and sense of smell, was well aware of the vampire creeping behind him. Seeing that there was no room nearby to duck into, he decided on another plan- one that would allow him to gain the upper hand in the long run. 

Walking a bit more slowly, he reached out his hand to feel his way about even though he could see quite well in the dark. As he moved forward a bit more he noticed a small seat next to a table on which rested a rather lovely vase with calla lilies arranged in it. Smirking a little to himself he moved closer and calculated his angle.  _ This should do it _ . He moved still closer and allowed his shin to knock into it, propelling him forward into the table with the result that he knocked the vase over to shatter on the floor, having missed the rug by a good foot. As for him, he landed hard on the rug. 

Expelling a— feigned— sharp breath and a loud frustrated sigh, he muttered loud enough for his shadow to hear, “Oh dear me— just gave myself away. So much for the element of surprise.”

The thing launched itself over the chair and landed above George with the strength and ferocity of a lion; he planted his knee in George’s back and made to grab his hands.

_ The bait has been taken, excellent _ . Putting up a show, George struggled against him, almost able to roll onto his side and throw him off before he reached back to swipe at the vampire’s face, succeeding in scratching his cheek but ultimately leaving his arm vulnerable.

The thing growled and snatched George’s wrist from the air, then grabbed his other arm and pinned them both behind his back.

“You must be joking,” he hissed as George wriggled beneath him, “ _ this  _ is who they send to kill us? You’re a joke— I almost feel sorry for you.” His grip tightened as George tugged against his grasp. “Oh, come on, we both know you’re not getting out of this.”

Inwardly laughing and hiding it well, George gave one last attempt at a struggle but ultimately let this vampire subdue him, letting out a feigned tired breath. “Bother— so much for stealth. Four missions and this is how I go out… disappointing.”

The vampire balked.

“Good  _ Christ—! _ ” He hissed and yanked George up by his arms to growl in his ear. “You  _ idiot! _ Do you have any idea how lucky you are? If you’d been sent to any other coven, you’d be fucking  _ dead _ .” He shoved George back down to the floor and moved back to observe the seemingly pitiable creature under his knee. “As it is, we only want to talk. Now get up—slowly—no sudden moves. I’d hate to break your arm for something so simple as misbehaving.”

“You only want to talk?” George carefully got to his feet, allowing a small smile to grace his lips. “That’s rather…  _ unexpected _ , but yes, I do prefer talking to being dead. I rather like this option.”

The thing scoffed and led him out of the room like a copper leading away a blundering thief. “Anyone would prefer that option.”

Deciding to keep silent for the moment, George allowed the vampire to lead him about.  _ Sometimes I wonder if I should have taken up acting instead… _

~*~

On the ground floor on the left side of the house, the window latch that Edward had been jimmying for the past several minutes finally clicked open. Silent as the grave, he slipped in and closed it behind him—wouldn’t want any passers-by to hear a fight and go to investigate. Once inside, he straightened himself and looked about. It was pitch dark. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The looming shapes of bookcases lined the walls. There was a desk in the corner to the left. A chair. A doorway that led to an even darker hall.

He adjusted his grip on the stake and silver dagger he had in each hand, then paused. Listened. Breathed. Felt the sharp thrill of adrenaline singing in his veins. Felt his heartbeat pounding steady as a drum. Felt for any shift or change in the room.

Nothing. No smell of blood or decay. No feeling of being watched. No odd currents in the air around him, nor any odd feelings telling him to get out or run.

He was alone.

Having been watching the hunter entering the window from the top of the house in his raven form, the vampire shook his head and flew back through the attic window he’d left open. He soared down through the house to the level where the hunter had entered and followed the scent of the human to the drawing room. Transforming back into his true form, he stood in the shadows, laying in wait for the man.

Edward took one last look around the room before making his way to the door with careful steps. He stepped over the threshold and paused. A presence lurked at the edges of his perception, weighing the air down and charging it till it seemed almost electric.

He wasn’t alone.

Slowly, he stepped back over the threshold and into the drawing room. He waited with his back to the window from which he came in.

_ Like hell am I being ambushed in the corridor,  _ he thought dryly.

When it became clear that the hunter wasn’t going to leave the room anytime soon, the creature inwardly sighed.  _ A clever hunter, then. I suppose I will have to take a calculated risk _ . He closed his eyes, focusing. His body began to dissolve, becoming a dark mist. When his form ceased to be corporeal he silently floated into the room, taking care to stay away from the bit of moonlight that filtered into the room. Coming to a spot just slightly behind the man, but still somewhat within his periphery, he reformed himself and threw the hunter against the wall with a wave of his hand, more to gain a little time and knock the weapons out of the man’s hand.

Edward hit the wall hard and fell to the floor like a sack of bricks. Pain shot through his body, settling in his back as a low, warm, stinging throb. He groaned quietly and rolled to his side, getting up as quick as he could and backing away from the vampire. Edward could see him now— tall, dark, and lean—long hair grown just slightly past his shoulders and kept back at the nape of his neck with a ribbon— lingering in the shadows as a vampire was wont to do.

Slowly, Edward stepped back and raised his hands.

“I know what this looks like,” he said, “but I just want to talk. The weapons are only here for self defense in case this all goes wrong, I won’t use them unless you approach me. If we stay where we are we’ll be fine.” He paused. Waited. Watched.

The vampire remained preternaturally still, taking him in, his hand raised and ready should the hunter try anything. Now that the man stood facing him he could see just  _ who _ had accessed his home.  _ Hunter Edward Little, the Butcher _ . Though he remained calm and still like a moonlit pond, he nonetheless seethed, furious that  _ this _ man was standing there audaciously stating he only wished to ‘talk’.

“Your audacity is astounding.” He spoke quietly, but his baritone voice resonated. “What could you possibly wish to talk about?”

Edward shifted. “A slayer notified us about a job that he botched. Killed two familiars, but no vampires. That wasn’t right. He intended for my colleagues and I to finish the job, but we think there’s more to this story than what he told us. We’re here to find out what he didn’t tell us.”

“They were  _ family _ , not simply familiars,” said the creature, his voice deadly quiet. He took a moment to reign in the impulse to throw this man against the wall again. 

After a moment he could speak again, though his eyes flashed vivid violet. “Considering this slayer came to  _ you _ , I can infer you both have a working relationship?”

Edward’s eyes darkened. “I make it a habit to avoid working with hunters who murder humans.” He paused. Studied the vampire. He tilted his head and observed the creature, motionless as a marble statue veiled in darkness. He pursed his lips; decided to say something potentially stupid. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry for your loss.”

_ He wouldn’t work with the slayer? This coming from the Butcher? _ The vampire felt his fangs elongate slightly, more from the rush of his emotions than hunger, and consciously forced them back. “How magnanimous of you.” He moved forward, taking care that the man could see he posed no threat… as of yet. 

Edward Little took a wary step back. He lowered his weapons ever so slightly and hoped the vampire didn’t take it as a gesture of ill intent. “I’m not being smart, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Seeing the man lowering his weapons, the creature took yet one more step forward, stopping in front of the man. “It is lucky for you that we wish to have a discussion as well. We’ll take this conversation to the parlour.”

Edward narrowed his eyes. He thought for a moment— he considered the possibility of a trap— considered the safety of himself— the safety of John and George— then thought. After a moment, he let his hands fall to his sides. He jutted his chin forward and flexed his fingers around the stake in his hand. He nodded toward the door. “Would you lead, or shall I?”

“Considering this is my home, I’ll take that honour if you don’t mind.”

Edward watched him leave the room before going to follow, lagging several paces behind as they made their way through the winding corridors and long hallways.

The parlour was at the front of the house, and was a small room compared to the sheer scale of the rest of the building. It boasted a large fireplace and tall, swooping ceilings that reminded Edward vaguely of a church. To the left in front of the mantle was a trio of luxuriously upholstered chairs, and two of them held tall, pale strangers, one with hair grey as steel and the other looking down with its hands clasped in its lap. The other two vampires, no doubt. To the right was an armchair and a settee, which seated both John and George. They looked up as he entered, eyes glinting with equal amounts of relief and worry. Edward felt a string of worry loosen in his chest. He tried to give them a reassuring look; then a gun cocked right behind his head.

“Remove your weapons and set them on the floor near the table,  _ now _ ,” a voice behind him ordered, giving Edward's head a hard nudge with the end of the gun. 

Edward grunted as the cold metal jabbed at his skull. He tossed the stake and dagger down, then took off his overcoat and frock coat and tossed them by the other two weapons— there were so many pockets and hiding places in the garments that they’d be there all evening if he emptied them out. He stood there clad in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves. He shot a furious glance at the vampire who led him in; by now it had taken a seat in the center chair on the left.

“Now move your things under the table using your foot—  _ slowly _ .” 

Edward did exactly as he was told.

“Good,” the stranger voiced, “now  _ sit _ .” 

Edward raised an eyebrow. “I’d prefer to stand, if you don’t mind.”

“I  _ do _ mind.” The voice took on a flinty edge, like the crack of lightning. “ _ SIT _ .”

Edward clenched his jaw and made three quick, stiff steps to the couch, and sat down to John’s right. Across from Edward, a dark-eyed, silvery-haired vampire regarded him coldly. Edward watched him for a moment to see if the thing would move to strike; he didn’t. Even as he turned to address the leader, Edward didn’t take his eyes off from the thing.

“Pardon me for being so forward, but I’m getting rather anxious sitting here unarmed in a room full of vampires.” He said dryly. “Could we get this over with a bit more quickly?”

The coven leader smirked so slightly, waiting until the man with the gun moved to stand behind him, a hand on his shoulder and his other still holding his gun, before speaking. 

“I have to wonder, how much did this slayer tell you about us? About how he came to notice us?” He queried calmly, raising his hand to twine his fingers with the gunman.

Edward felt John tense beside him at the mention of Jopson; Edward dared a glance and put a hand on his knee. He rubbed small circles with his thumb, hoping it was comforting in some way. Then he turned to address the vampire.

“We know he wrongfully killed two of your own, and that there are at least three vampires and one familiar left, As for how he noticed you… Well.” Edward’s lips curled up into an ill-tempered smirk. “He didn’t stick around long enough to divulge that information. We’re not exactly on good terms, and he knew he wasn’t welcome.”

“ _ Wrongfully?  _ That’s putting it lightly.” The leader remarked, eyes flashing again, squeezing the gunman's hand when he heard him shift his stance. “We have done our level best to conduct ourselves differently than the vampires you are used to dealing with. We take great care not to attract attention, but it seems this slayer seeks out even that which does not harm and wishes only to live quietly in peace.”

Edward raised an eyebrow. “Not a bad way to put it.”

The leader looked at him for a long moment, his face and expression giving nothing away— cool as marble. “I’m less interested in putting it in terms you approve of and more interested in conducting this  _ trial _ — for that is exactly what this is, as we are guilty until proven innocent— to the satisfaction for both our parties.”

His gaze then encompassed the other hunters beside the man. “Pose your questions and we will answer.”

Edward shot a glance at John and George; they both looked rather deep in thought. It would be a few more moments before either of them spoke. Might as well take the opportunity while he could. 

Edward turned back to the vampires and shot, “How do you take your meals?”

The silver haired vampire raised an eyebrow and shifted to cross his ankle over his knee.

“We don’t murder humans, if that’s what you mean.” He drawled.

Edward turned to narrow his eyes at the thing. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

“We are quite selective, choosing only the suffering infirm who cannot care for themselves and the terminally ill to whom death is a mercy.” The coven leader explained, casting a glance to the gunman. “My familiar is currently employed at Barts as an attendant and visits the other hospitals in the area. He has become quite adept at finding the ones who pray for swift death rather than a painful drawn out affair.”

The silvery vampire and the leader shared a quick, intense look that Edward didn’t miss.

George lowered his teacup, having been enjoying the tea that had been laid out for them prior to Edward’s and the coven leader’s arrival. He’d been content for the moment to observe the proceedings and allow Edward to take the lead at the present time. Now, however, he caught the leader’s glance and then met the eyes of the gunman.

“May I inquire as to how  _ exactly _ you select them? Am I to understand that you take the time to get to know them to discern if death is what they truly desire?” George politely inquired, his eyes focused on the gunman.

“Yes, that’s right,” the gunman returned, “I’m there for them, especially for those that have no family or friends. I am frank with them and they are frank with me.” He left it at that.

Accepting that, for the moment, George then queried, “How often do you feed?” This he directed to the coven leader, meeting his remote gaze.

“Not as often as others might. We control and manage our bloodlust, feeding only enough to maintain our ‘health’ and strength, nothing more. We spread out our feedings and we always take care to vary the hospitals we feed from so as not to attract too much attention.”

Edward narrowed his eyes at them, working his jaw as he pondered their words.

“You say you are frank with them,” he said to the gunman, “but to what degree? Are your patients aware that they will end up as someone’s meal?”

The third vampire turned to Edward and spoke.

  
“Careful with your tone,” he said quietly, “you shouldn’t accuse Walter of wrongs he hasn’t committed.”

The vampire fixed him with an intense, piercing, bright blue gaze that made Edward want to squirm in his seat. It took all his effort and concentration to remain still.

“Frank enough that some even wish to meet us to better understand,” the coven leader informed him, still cool as marble- though he aimed a piercing gaze at Edward, eyes flashing to echo the other vampire’s words. 

In an effort to keep the peace and seek resolution to this affair, George looked to the vampire leader and to the gunman, “In the interest of dismantling misconceptions, would you perhaps be amenable to allowing one of us to join Walter on one of his rounds?”

The silver haired vampire shot up in his seat, gripping the armrests of his chair so hard that splinters flew from between his fingers with a loud  _ crack!  _ He turned toward the coven leader with wild, furious eyes.

The leader was perfectly aware of his silver haired companion’s reaction, having seen it from the corner of his eye and felt the energy coming, but he appraised the golden haired hunter who posed the request. He knew who the man was, of course. His reputation preceded him:  _ Hunter George Hodgson, the Dandy _ . The Hodgsons were a dynastic hunter family, though from what he understood, George and his great uncle, the famed Algernon Hodgson, were breaking the mold set by their forebears.  _ Perhaps this one, at least, might be worthy of a little trust _ .

The silver haired one still stared at the coven leader, his black eyes silently pleading.

The blue eyed vampire glanced between the leader and familiar with parted lips, glancing eyes, and a desperate look. His hands didn’t move from his lap, but somehow it was clear that they longed to reach for the familiar.

It was the gunman, Walter, who spoke up, surprising all assembled. “I’ll agree to that,” he said, cool as a cucumber. 

The blue eyed vampire seemed to crumble into his chair like a house of cards. The sound of shattering wood rang out as the armrests of the silver-haired vampire’s chair were reduced to a handful of wooden chucks. They both stared at Walter.

Walter swiveled his gaze between both the vampires, his expression softened just a touch. “There isn’t any other option, and I want this settled as quickly as possible.” 

Rising, the vampire leader moved to stand before Walter, searching his eyes. Not a word was spoken, but they communicated volumes with their gazes. Eventually the leader brought his hand up to rest against Walter’s cheek, and Walter raised his hand to rest against the vampire’s neck. They remained like that for a few moments before embracing, tightly. 

“I’ll allow it.” The leader agreed at length, turning to look at the hunters while keeping Walter in his embrace. “ _ You _ ,” he indicated the golden haired hunter, “will accompany him.”

Before the hunter could react, Walter spoke up, “Actually, I’d prefer the dark-haired one accompany me.”

Frowning, the leader turned his head to meet his gaze, looking at him with muted incredulity.

“The blond dandy may be the leader, but  _ that _ one distrusts us the most and is the one who accused me.”

Edward silently raised an eyebrow.

Though the coven leader’s presence seemed to grow and fill the room, his expression remained remote, save for the flash of his eyes. “I’ll allow it so long as one of the other hunters remains here with us for the duration of the rounds.” The leader’s eyes focused on the silent hunter— whom he knew to be  _ Hunter John Irving, The Archangel _ — seated between The Butcher and The Dandy. “ _ This _ one will remain.”

Edward’s eyes widened and he shot forward in his seat. “No! Absolutely not!”

Reaching out, John caught Edward’s arm and slid his hand along it to catch his hand to hold. “Ned, it’s alright. I— it’s for the best, and I’m completely fine with the arrangement.”

George leaned in to rest his hand over their entwined ones. “It’s not  _ unreasonable _ , Neddy darling. Two of their family were murdered by Jopson, you can’t expect they would entrust one of their own to us without insurance against harm?”

Edward felt a pang of desperation and fear shoot through him like a bullet. He glanced between the two of them, mouth half-open as if to speak, face twisted in conflict. He looked at John; there was nothing but earnest, gentle sincerity in his eyes. Turned to George; saw the grounded, determined, reassuring look on his face.

Edward sighed. He hung his head, closing his eyes and gripping their hands tight between his. He was silent for a while. Then, he spoke very quietly.

“Fine.”

The vampire leader came forward to stand before the hunters, waiting until the blond leader rose before addressing him with, “Then we have an accord?” 

Nodding, George offered his hand, “Upon my honor as a gentleman, no harm will come to Walter.”

The corner of the vampire’s lips quirked— not quite a smirk and not quite a smile. “Upon my honor as a gentleman vampire, no harm will come to your colleague.” He took the offered hand and shook.

“Splendid.” George smiled winningly, to further ease the tension. “I suppose now would be a good time for introductions?” 

The vampire gave him the smallest of smiles. “I’m James Fitzjames, and this is Graham Gore, Walter Fairholme, and Henry Le Vesconte,” indicating them respectively.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” George smiled again, making eye contact with each of them. “I’m— well I imagine you all know who I am, considering Mr. Le Vesconte saw through my act earlier,” he spared the silver-haired vampire an apologetic glance and smile, “but for the sake of politeness, I’m George Hodgson, and this is John Irving and Edward Little.”

John followed George’s lead with, “A pleasure, indeed.”

Edward narrowed his eyes at the four figures on the other side of the room. “An honour,” he deadpanned.

Glancing at Mr. Little, James rather looked down his nose at him and chose to ignore his comment before turning his eyes back to encompass Mr. Hodgson, addressing him, “We’ll send word to you when it is convenient for Walter to take Mr. Little along.”

“Excellent,” George spared a nod and withdrew his card, but James held up a hand to stop him.

  
“That’s not necessary, we know where you reside.”

Edward’s eyes widened; he scowled.

John raised his eyebrows, very much concerned at this. “How?”

James gave him a small enigmatic smile, “Your kind watches us, so too, do we watch you. You reside with a Hodgson, need I say more?”

“When you put it that way, I suppose not,” John returned.

Edward pursed his lips and squeezed John’s hand, looking for reassurance. John squeezed back.

“Well, I suppose that’s all to be getting on with for now.” George mused. “Thank you kindly for your hospitality and I do apologise for the broken vase. I’ll provide a replacement by week’s end.” This last statement he said meeting Mr. Le Vesconte’s gaze, bestowing upon him his winning smile. 

Le Vesconte turned with a half-open mouth and a scowl, looking for all the world as if he was about to say something incredibly rude, only to stop dead in his tracks when he clapped eyes on George. Instead, he closed his mouth, then narrowed his eyes and scoffed, “Don’t bother.”

The smile faltered— almost imperceptibly— but George maintained his expression of cheer and goodwill, deciding he’d find the perfect one and send it along regardless. 

“Thank you again, this discussion was most informative.” George refocused his gaze on the leader, Mr. Fitzjames. “We’ll take our leave now and bid you a good night.”

“A good night to you, gentlemen,” James replied, sparing Mr. Hodgson the slightest of nods. “Walter will show you out.”

Walter stepped out from behind the seat, approaching them. “You may take your weapons now.”

John and George crouched to retrieve their things from under the table, but Edward hesitated. He waited for the familiar to hand them the weapons, or to move the table, or to do something to help them with their things. Instead he stood there unmoving as a vampire, arms crossed, chin held high, and eyes half hooded. Edward shot him a look. Fairholme raised an eyebrow as if to say,  _ Well? _

They stared at each other for a moment, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. After a while, Edward saw he wasn’t going to win this. Swallowing his pride like a lump of lead, he clenched his jaw and kneeled. He had just slid his knife and stake back into the pockets on the insides of his boots when he went to grab his coats and someone stepped on them. Edward looked up; Fairholme stood over him with a haughty look. Edward glowered.

“Do you mind?” He said lowly.

“I  _ do _ .” Walter kept his foot on his clothing, looking down at him with a little smirk playing upon his lips. “These remain here with me until I decide it’s safe to return them. What’s more, when you shadow me you’ll be unarmed.”

Edward gawked. Scowled. Opened his mouth to speak. Closed it. Scowled again. Eventually he raised his hands and stood, then strode across the room to join George and John by the door. Neither of them missed that his face was like thunder and his eyes were blazing with fury.

Satisfied, Walter removed his foot from Little’s coats and moved to the door, sweeping past them. “This way,” he said, showing them down to the entryway in brisk fashion, not wishing them to linger a moment longer in the house. 

“Good night,” Walter said without emotion, pulling open and holding the door for them.

George and John returned the farewell and stepped outside to wait for Edward.

Edward stamped out into the street and joined the other two, then Fairholme shut the door on them. For a good, long, silent moment, they stood there staring at each other.

Clad in naught but shirtsleeves and a waistcoat, Edward turned to the other two and asked, “Can we go home now?”

George merely gave him a look of fond exasperation, removing his long coat and helping Edward put it on. 

John would have provided his own, but unfortunately he wasn’t as broad as Edward was which meant anything he offered would be ill-fitting on his brooding lover. Instead he hailed a hansom, intending to get them home as soon as possible, musing that they would have quite a lot to discuss once they were safely ensconced for the night.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are very much encouraged and will only provide further motivation for us to continue writing, so if you enjoy this work, please leave comments. ❤️ Thank you!


End file.
